


My Heart Will Go On

by Rexxy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Character Deaths, F/M, Fluff and Angst, If you've seen the movie this should be okay, M/M, Titanic AU, but also a happy ending, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 14:56:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9662273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rexxy/pseuds/Rexxy
Summary: "How can I help you, Mr Enjolras?""I was just wondering if you'd found the heart of the ocean yet, Mr Lovett?""Alright you have my attention, Julian. Can you tell me who the man in the picture is?""Oh yes." Enjolras said with a wistful grin. "The man in the picture is me."





	1. Chapter 1

There wasn't much that put his mind at peace at his age, with his experiences, but Enjolras found a small joy in letting his old, shaking hands shape and mould soft clay into what could be considered a masterpiece.

 

  _You're the masterpiece._

 

 He gave the effort of letting a small smile grace his features at that stray thought, in a voice he still recognised after all those years. He felt his skin struggle to stretch into the foreign expression which only made him want to smile even more. Once, that tight-lipped expression he always wore drew the most wonderful person into his life. One that had changed the way he'd seen the world forever. His heart still ached yet simultaneously skipped a beat when he thought about that simpler time, when he had been naïve until his world was taken apart and rebuilt by the most wonderful kind of being. There were days in the past he would find himself stricken with sudden grief, gazing upon the art of Picasso, but now he simply learned to treasure the time he'd had and keep it in his heart until-

 

 "-found on the RMS Titanic."

 

His attention was quickly shifted and he spoke quietly, as was his only way now after so many years of shouting on behalf of others. He hadn't heard that name in a while, not since it had happened. Naturally, he had tried to avoid it, and the memories that came alongside, but he'd been hiding a long while now, and maybe it was time to face things like _he_ would have wanted. He'd always thought Enjolras was brave, since he'd first talked to him. "Turn that up, Dear."

 

A young boy with freckles and short blonde hair came around the corner, looking at Enjolras quizzically, there on a visit to his god father. Cosette and Marius had sadly passed away a few months back, leaving Enjolras the only one who knew. They had a daughter, a delightful young woman that grew up to be intelligent and kind, traits she passed on to her son, whom being so fond of Enjolras' stories, she had named Grantaire. He had cried for nearly an hour that day, holding the precious bundle of godson in his arms and promising to protect him always. "What was that, Uncle?"

 

"The picture box, Grantaire, turn it up."

 

With a shrug the boy did so and then moved to Enjolras when the old man grabbed his cane and forced himself to stand up, eyes glued to the screen, where a picture of a very familiar nude drawing was being shown. _Draw me like one of your French girls_. "Oh my." He whispered, listening. It had been so long, how was it even possible?

 

"-and if anybody has any information whatsoever, the team would really appreciate it. Just call-"

 

"The phone, Dear, put the number in it for me. God knows my frail hands don't work like they used to." He smiled, able to make remarks about himself that he would not have been able to before _him_. He swiftly found the ringing phone next to his ear and was glad to hear a voice at the end that ended up directing him to a stern sounding gentleman. The scientist from the television.

 

"How can I help you, Mr Enjolras?"

 

"I was just wondering if you'd found the heart of the ocean yet, Mr Lovett?"

 

"Alright you have my attention, Julian. Can you tell me who the man in the picture is?"

 

"Oh yes." Enjolras said with a wistful grin. "The man in the picture is me."

 

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

 

The helicopter ride there was quicker than he had expected, but then Enjolras was never a good judge of technology. Flying over the ocean wasn’t a great comfort either, but he sucked it up and travelled on. It was time somebody knew their story.

 

When they landed on the large ship, he was greeted by the scientist, Mr Lovett. “We’re very glad to have you here, Mr Enjolras.”

 

“I’m sure.” The now grey-haired man replied. He was leaning heavily on the arm of his godson, who was swatting away the hands trying to help, because he knew even in his old age, that Enjolras was far too proud for it. A gentleman, like the man of his name had been.

 

“Is there anything I can get you? A glass of water perhaps?” Asked the scientist as they all walked down a hallway.

 

“Yes, actually, I would like to see my drawing.” Mr Lovett nodded and led Enjolras to the lab, where he was greeted with the image created by his artist once more. He looked over the smooth graphite lines and closed his eyes for a moment, only to be greeted with the sudden, intense gaze of the artist himself, looking over Enjolras’ body with professionalism and a little giddiness. It was an image that brought with it feelings of content and relaxation, and even nervousness, for that is how he felt at the time, with those piercing blue eyes trained on him, and him alone. He’d never known a gaze like it since. He was drawn out of the image by Mr Lovett talking about the origins of the diamond around his drawing’s neck, and Enjolras only caught the end of the man’s ramblings.

 

“-would be worth more than the hope diamond.”

 

“It was awfully heavy, I can tell you that much.”

 

“You actually think this is you, Uncle Enjolras?” His godson asked.

 

“Of course it’s me. How do you think I garnered so much support in my day? Good looks got me a long way.” He chuckled. “He said they would.”

 

“Who?” The boy asked, at the same time as Mr Lovett started speaking again, “Can you give me the name of who this diamond was bought by?”

 

“I should imagine someone named… Thernadiér.”

 

The scientist looked incredibly pleased by the answer. “Yes, Monsieur Thernadier, who bought it as an engagement present for his daughter, Azelma, to give to her arranged fiancé, you. It’s known to have gone down with that ship. Now, the date on this picture states you were wearing this a day before the ship sank. If you have anything at all you wish to tell us, Mr Enjolras, now would be the time. Are you ready?”

 

Enjolras nodded and they were lead to a smaller room with lots of screens on them, showing what the underwater cameras were picking up from the sunken ship. One in particular showed a set of doors that Enjolras recognized all too well. They had been golden once, holding behind them fine music and laughter, pretentious as it may have been. He had walked through those doors with his artist on his arm. He turned to find a man giving him a detailed explanation of what happened to the ship scientifically, and afterword was faced with another question by Mr Lovett. “Do you want to tell us your experience?”

 

“It’s been 84 years…”

 

“I know its difficult-“

 

“Do you want to hear the story or not?” He asked patiently, a feat he could not have done had he been interrupted in the time his heart and mind where venturing back to. “It’s been 84 years, and I can still smell the fresh paint. They called it the ship of dreams, and it was. It really was…”


	2. Chapter 2

Enjolras stepped out of his overly lavish car, wearing his crisp, white suit, with the assistance of his fiancé’s hand, who looked all too happy to be helping him. One quick glimpse at the ship had him rolling his eyes. “What’s all this fuss over the big boat, anyhow? It’s far too big to be anything other than atrociously slow.”

 

“Oh, Enjolras, you always were too hard to please.”

 

Enjolras hummed an agreement but otherwise ignored the woman before him in favour seeing to the servants handling his bags. “Would you like some help?”

 

“Not at all, Master Enjolras. You and Madame should really be getting on the ship and settling in before you set sail. I can handle this, thank you, it is after all what I am paid for.”

 

“Yes, sir, that is his job.” Came the voice of Tholomyes, the somewhat crooked looking old man that came along with Azelma at her fathers’ insistence. Enjolras had never been too fond of the man, especially due to the fact that he was an ex-lawyer for the Thernadier family, and now was here only to spy on Enjolras and be at Azelma’s beckoning call.

 

Turning away from the horrid excuse of a man under his fiance’s rule, he looked over the crowd, to see a small girl being held up by her father, admiring the gold car, and smiled kindly when she caught his eye, waving excitedly as if she thought he were a prince. He waved back slightly, then blew her a small kiss, while she giggled and buried her face into her father’s shoulder. He was taken away from the small interaction by the high pitched voice of the woman accompanying him.

 

“We must be going now. Isn’t it a marvelous spectacle of a ship, My Dear?”

 

With a nod and sigh, he turned and once again found his fiancé clinging to his arm as they headed for the boarding area, talking 90 miles per hour about how great the ship was and how brilliant their time in America was going to be. Enjolras was dreading it. He did want to marry this, or any other woman, but he had a duty to his family, according to his mother. Madame Enjolras was only ever too happy to remind her son of the debts their family faced, and how much he could help if he stopped being so _selfish_ and accepted at least one proposal.

 

As he stepped onto the ship, showing his pass to first class, he kept up his façade of fascination with the interior, while inside he felt his stomach turn with fear as his freedom slipped from his hands and into his _fiancé’s._

 

 

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

 

 

The bar erupted into cheers and shouts as Grantaire threw his cigarette on the ground and swiped the table of it’s money and picked up the two tickets laying on the table beside it. “It was a good game lads, truly! I can’t believe it! We’re going to America!” He shouted, holding the tickets close to his chest protectively.

 

“No, lads, Titanic is going to America. In five minutes!” The bar tender revealed to them, laughing as he pointed at the old wall clock.

 

“Shit! Come on, Jean, we’ve gotta run!” He exclaimed to Jehan, who was in a fair amount of shock but no less excited than his friend. For two bar dwellers, they really found their way around. In just a few seconds their belongings were scooped up into a bag and hefted over Grantaire’s shoulder as they ran as fast as they could towards the ship, pushing people out of the way as they went, even startling a few horses in their haste. “Can you believe it? By God, we’re the luckiest sons of bitches in the world! Practically royalty!” Grantaire exclaimed as he ran up the boarding bridge, and flashed his ticket before jumping on to the boat, Jehan copying behind him. They ran through hall ways, all of their belongings on their person until they reached the deck and leaned over the edge, Grantaire waving frantically. “Goodbye!”

 

“You know somebody?” Jehan asked, a little confused but still unbelievably hyped.

 

“Of course not, that isn’t the point!” Jehan just shrugged and joined in with the shouted farewells, never understanding Grantaire’s mindset in full, but going along with it anyways.

 

Once they’d screamed themselves hoarse, they made their way back to their won room, excitement still thrumming in their veins, where Jehan claimed the top bunk and Grantaire was far too excited to do anything about it. Instead, he took the opportunity to do what he loved most, and took out his sketchbook and graphite pencil, and prepared to capture possibly the most incredible moment of his life.

 

 

 

\----------------------------------------

 

 

 

The sounds of distant cheering and laughing seemed like it was almost too dulled out to be real in Enjolras’ private room. The walls were wooden and dark, with gold fixtures and detail carved into them. They could have been beautiful, if Enjolras hadn't known men had no doubt slaved over the perfections. It was not a bad room, very luxurious in fact, but that’s all it was. It held no character, no individuality. This room will be like every other on his deck, decorated with marble and precious metal to capture the heart of the materialistic animals he was surrounded by. The only thing he had that separated him from this was the delightful art that he had been allowed to bring with him.

 

Maids and servants were bustling around him, trying to clean and set out their belongings in a ridiculous charade to make their family appear better than those on the decks below. He ran his hand over the colours that melted together on one of the fine canvases upon the wooden table in their sitting room and smiled to himself. “Exquisite, aren’t they?”

 

“What was that, sir?” A maid asked, with a nervous tremor to her voice. Enjolras’ hated that he could instill that nervousness.

 

“These paintings, Dear, aren’t they wonderful? How they capture a life, or just a moment of it with such immense beauty is incredible.”

 

“Yes, sir.” The maid agreed, looking over the paintings fondly. She had light blonde hair, some of which was falling out of her bonnet, but Enjolras didn’t mind. If he’d had it his way, she would be beside him in his riches rather than in rags. She appeared to have a kind face, and Enjolras admired it.

 

“You’re the maid Thernadier sent to me. Cosette, was it?”

 

“Yes, s-“

 

“Enjolras, please. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” He said, kissing her hand.

 

“You are just as charming as they say.”

 

“Not that it will get me anywhere except into a forced marriage.”

 

“Oh, Sir- Enjolras, I’m sorry to hear that, I-“

 

“Again with these finger paintings, Enjolras?” The sound of his fiancé cut Cosette off, and she hurried to make herself look busy.

 

“The difference between the art taste of Azelma and I, is that I actually have some.” He said as he picked up a smaller painting and put it on the chaise lounge to admire. “They’re fascinating. There’s truth but no logic.”

 

“What’s the artist's name?” Cosette asked timidly.

 

“Something Picasso, I believe.” Enjolras replied.

 

Azelma scoffed. “ _Something_ Picasso? He won’t amount to a thing. He won’t, trust me. Artists never do.” Enjolras rolled his eyes and walked to another room, not ready to start an argument quite yet, when the servants were in the room. Azelma could get physically angry, and he didn’t want her hurting these innocent people in the name of a fight that wasn’t theirs. He would deal with her later.

 

 

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

 

 

The next day found Grantaire and Jehan running around on the open deck again, leaning over the railings and feeling the wind course through their hair, and tiny droplets of water splash their faces, making their skin glisten in the warm sun light. “Hey, look!” Grantaire pointed at the water, where there were dolphins jumping in and out, the view captivating the two poor boys who had nothing much else to do but observe and experience things on the open deck. Entertainment was a self-made thing for the lower-decks where people took comfort over looks, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was a bad thing.

 

 

 

\----------------------------------------------

 

 

 

Meanwhile Enjolras sat in a new lime green suit with white details in the trimmings, tapping his finger impatiently on a table filled with crystal, painted pottery, and boringly prestigious gentlemen, along with Molly Brown, a woman that had come onto their ship in new money. Enjolras had been awfully fond of her stories of her farm land back home, and found himself asking questions, even as his mother nipped his arm under the table to try to make him stop being interested. Which led him to listening to the excruciatingly dull conversation taking place before him.

 

“-the worlds biggest ship to have ever sailed the seas, and this man built it.”

 

“You are too kind. It’s so grand in scale-“

 

Enjolras trailed off with his listening and did the only thing he knew calmed his nerves when he felt the need to be snarky and snappy. He lit up a cigarette from his jacket pocket and brought it to his lips, making direct eye contact with his frowning mother, who leaned forward at the display.

 

“You know I hate it when you do that.” She said, and in response Enjolras blew a puff of smoke in her direction, grinning to himself as she grimaced.

 

“He knows.” Azelma answered for him, lighting his nerves on fire, and then making his eyes go fuzzy with the anger he was holding in when she reached out and took the cigarette from his fingers, putting it out before him on a porcelain plate. He took a deep breath through his nose and tried to calm himself as a waiter came over, and Azelma spoke for him once more, “we’ll both have the lamb, with very little mint.” The waiter nodded and walked away, while Azelma turned to Enjolras with a grin. “You like that, right honey?”

 

Enjolras didn’t, in fact, like that. He hated lamb. What he had wanted was the soup or something of equal flavour. Anything but lamb, however he had no choice in the matter, did he? He smiled widely, clearly annoyed and trying to make his heart stop beating so quickly.

 

“You gonna cut that up for him too, Honey?” Molly Brown spoke up from across the table, making Enjolras give her a grateful nod. “Who came up with the name Titanic anyhow, was it you Bruce?”

 

“Yes, I wanted to convey sheer size-“

 

Enjolras snorted in a very ungentlemanly way. “Do you know of Doctor Freud, Mr Ismay? His ideas about the male pre-occupation with size might be of particular interest to you.”

 

The table went into silence save for the quiet chuckling of Thomas Andrews, the builder of the ship sat before him, and Molly Brown.

 

“What’s gotten into you?” His mother whispered harshly.

 

With the same forced smile as before, he got up from his chair and walked out, muttering a quick ‘excuse me’, before doing so. On his way out, he captured the words, “I might have to start minding what he reads from now on,” from his finacé, and stormed out onto the open deck to calm down before he started shouting and arguing.

 

 

 

\---------------------------------------

 

 

 

Grantaire sat on the deck, as was his usual stand point now, loving the feeling of fresh, open air and the sun on his skin. He was sketching a father and his daughter playing along the railing, looking out at the sea and the fish.

 

“It’s a nice ship, no?” Jehan was talking next to him, to whom he wasn’t sure yet, too immersed in his drawings to listen to Jehan’s nonsensical complimenting of the ship.

 

“Of course it is, its Irish!” Came a strongly accented voice. “Solid as a rock, build with big irish hands. Oh typical!” The Irishman shouted as a suit-clad man walked past with a few dogs. “First class bring their dogs down here to take a shite!”

 

That caught Grantaire’s attention and he let out a startled laugh. “Let’s us know where we rank in the scheme of things.”

 

“Like we could forget. I’m Courfeyrac.” The man said, reaching out a hand for Grantaire to shake, which he took and intoroduced himself before sitting back down against the railing.

 

“Grantaire.”

 

“No first name? We make quite the pair, then.”

 

“Keeps things to a minimal amount of confusion the way I see it.”

 

“Fair enough. That’s a good strong hand shake you got there. Must be because you’re an artist, right? Do you make any money from it?”

 

Grantaire was prepared to answer, but didn’t even hear out the rest of the question before his attention was stolen away rather abruptly by the arrival of what could only be described as an angel. His world seemed to stop and he could hear his heart in his ears as he watched the beautiful golden-haired man in a lime-green suit lean against the railing of the higher deck, looking out onto the sea with such an accusing glare he would have thought it funny on anybody else. The man looked furious with the water, but his expression complimented his anger well, with sharp, aristocratic features. His eyes seemed to gleam into the sun-light as his hair glowed and his pale skin shone so beautifully. Grantaire wanted to make that anger go away. He wanted to see if he could wrap his arms around the god and make his knuckles regain colour as they came up to grab at Grantaire instead of the railing.

 

He could hear the criticism from Courfeyrac but it went in one ear and out of the other, because the man turned and looked right at Grantaire, and he couldn’t have shifted his gaze even if he had wanted to. Those eyes that had been full of fury now looked curious, as they did a double take of the artist. The frown still remained, but his face softened a little, and Grantaire almost smiled at him before a young woman came out and grabbed the young man’s arm, uttering something that caused his posture to stiffen as he nodded and headed back inside, not looking back while Grantaire followed his form until it left.

 

“You’re more likely to have angels fly out of your arse than get near the likes of him.” Courfeyrac said, amused, and Grantaire laughed in agreement. Little did he know his journey was about to change completely…


	3. Chapter 3

That night Enjolras once again found himself seated at another pointless banquet, wearing a dull, brown suit with a light brown scarf, and staring at the flower arrangements on the table as people chattered about nothing of worth all around him. He had been sat at the table his mother was at, meaning he was forced to bear witness to women cooing over how _handsome_ he was and how _well-mannered_. Such a good lad for staying so quiet, such a _gentleman_. He felt a growing urge to stop everything and scream at them all, but did his duty and suffered in silence, nodding when appropriate but never quite making it to a smile, fake or otherwise.

 

By the end of the meal, he’d had enough. The same people, the same mindless chatter, and amongst the speakers not one who cared for him. None that would reach out and pull him back from falling into oblivion, but simply replace him with another pretty, mindless face. He had no control over anything in his life anymore, except one thing. As his mother wandered off to a tea room to have her nightly chat with her new found friends, and Azelma wandered off for whisky and cigars as an honorary gentleman seeing as though Enjolras refused and the other men had to weasel their way into the Thernadier business plan somehow, Enjolras found the sudden impulse to take the one ounce of control he still had and use it. That impulse drove him hurriedly to the back of the ship, tears running down his face because he’s so _weak_ , why _him_? Sobs escaped him from the very first moment he’d broken out into a run, but not one person on his deck stopped him, asked him if he was alright. All he received were sneers and looks of disgust. _How dare he feel anything?_ Doesn’t he know the _worth_ of a well-mannered gentleman nowadays?

 

He ran and didn’t spare a glance for anyone else as he approached the end of the ship on the lower deck, where the back of the boat revealed the vast emptiness of the sea below. With a shaky breath and a hitch of breath that threatened to break out into another pathetic sob, he climbed over the metal railing and turned to face the water that was frothy and white as the ship’s propellers spun frantically to keep up speed, and held onto the cold metal bar behind him. _I can control this_ , he thought. _No amount of money or societal control can miraculously pull me back._ He took another deep breath and loosened his hold a little, closing his eyes to make it easier.

 

“Don’t do it.”

 

Enjolras’ head whipped around at the unfamiliar voice and found a pair of startlingly beautiful blue eyes, that he belatedly recognised, looking at him. It was the man from earlier on the lower deck that had caught his errant gaze, and he was smoking a cigarette. His fists tightened on the railing as he swerved and he suddenly found a little of his courage slipping away. _Damn it_! _You’ve ruined it, you beautiful_ moron _, I was ready_! “Stay back! Not a step closer, I mean it. Stay where you are or I’ll let go.” He said with determination, even if it was breathy and a little frightened. To his utter surprise, the man just threw away his cigarette and stayed where he was, holding a hand out to placate Enjolras, as if he were a frightened deer.

 

_As if he didn’t want Enjolras to jump._

“No you won’t.”

 

“Excuse me?” Enjolras challenged. “Don’t presume to tell me what I will and will not do, you don’t know me.” _They_ know me. They _own_ me, he thought, and looked back out at the sea, not wanting to see the unexpected sadness in his conversation partners eyes.

 

“You would have done it already.” He shrugged. “Listen, if you’re not going to step over to me then…” He took off his jacket and put it on the floor, then started untying his boots, “I guess I’m just going to have to jump in there after you.” One boot fell to the floor, so the artist started untying the other.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll kill yourself! The fall alone would take you!” Enjolras argued, perplexed by the man’s argument. Why would he jump in the freezing cold water and risk his life for a stranger?

 

“It would hurt, I’ll give you that much. Tell you the truth I’m a lot more concerned about the temperature of that damn water.” He said as the other boot fell to the deck. When Enjolras looked back at the black-haired man he looked pensive. A quick glance between the water and the artist betrayed his concern.

 

“How cold?”

 

“Freezing. You ever been to Wisconsin?” Enjolras gave him a look of absolute confusion. “No, then. I grew up there, for a little while. The winters were unbearably cold. Me and my father went ice fishing once, you know when you-“

 

“I know what ice fishing is!” Enjolras snapped, annoyed at how much his attention had already been drawn to the man instead of his goal.

 

“Sorry.” He said calmly, his hands up in mock surrender. “I assumed you’d never… done much. I can’t see anyone doing anything with even minor movements in that suit." He nodded to the clothes wrapped around Enjolras' frame and Enjolras was pleasantly surprised to find only a look of sympathy at his discomfort, rather than a look of jealously or approval at the refinement. "Anyway, I fell through some thin Ice. Water that cold, its like a thousand knives stabbing you all at once. You’re suddenly enveloped in pain, numbing and stinging all at once.” He sighed, and Enjolras saw the truth in his expression and then he shrugged again, taking off that last layer before his shirt. “Which is why I’m not particularly looking forward to jumping in there after you. Don’t really have a choice though, do I?”

 

“You’re insane.”

 

“Figures I’d be the one getting labeled crazy from the one hanging off the end of the boat.” Enjolras scowled, but was clearly trying to hide a smile. “Come on, you don’t want to do this.” The artist said, offering a hand to Enjolras, which he took and turned around slowly, facing the triumphant face of his savior.

 

“Julian Enjolras.”

 

“Grantaire.”

 

Enjolras smiled for what seemed like the first time in years, reveling in the feeling of his eyes crinkling in a way his mother thought was unseemly. It almost made his cheeks ache, but finding the expression being mirrored by Grantaire made it worth it. He was so caught up in the feeling that he forwent looking down as he stepped up, and got his scarf caught under his foot, so he slipped off the railing and instinctively grabbed at Grantaire’s arm, which had grabbed him with almost painful strength in return.

 

He let out a loud shout. “Grantaire I don’t want to die, I don’t want to-“

 

“It’s alright just stop flailing and give me your other hand.”

 

Enjolras did so and was quickly hauled up by Grantaire, who ended up on his knees as Enjolras toppled them over while the blonde was left panting on his back, unable to move due to shock. Grantaire took Enjolras’ face in his hands and instructed him to breathe, in for five seconds then out slowly, and Enjolras grabbed his arms and squeezed, anchoring himself as he calmed down.

 

That was how the naval officer found them, before dragging Grantaire from the panicking Enjolras and calling for help.

 

Not ten minutes later they were surrounded by officers along with Enjolras’ mother and Azelma, as he was shouting at Grantaire who was calmly being held back and handcuffed. “What made you think you could put _your_ hands on _my_ fiancé?” Enjolras winced. She sounded like a toddler that had been forced to share her toys. He felt that self-loathing start up again, until he saw the raised eyebrow of Grantaire, who clearly did not favour Enjolras being treated like an object.

 

“Azelma, stop! It was an accident!” Enjolras interrupted, getting up from where he had been sat down and given a blanket to cover up his trauma. “I was leaning over to look at those damn propellers you and your business friends were talking about at dinner, and I slipped. If it wasn’t for Mr Grantaire I’d be dead right now!” He exclaimed, and Azelma sighed.

 

“That does sound like something a clumsy boy like you would do.” She admitted, with an unimpressed raise of her eyebrow. Enjolras resisted the urge to argue. She turned to Grantaire and smiled unkindly. “I suppose I owe you thanks, then? Tholomyes, a 20 should do it I think.”

 

“Oh.” Enjolras said, affronted. “Is that the going rate for the man you ’love’?”

 

“Oh, no, Julian is displeased! What to do? Ah!” She said in a way that indicated she’d had another one of her ‘brilliant’ ideas. “Grantaire, do join us at dinner tomorrow night, would you? I’m sure you can regale our group with your heroic tale.”

 

“Sure thing, Boss!” Grantaire replied, and Enjolras almost chuckled at the look of shock that passed over his fiancé’s face. She gave him a tight smile then dragged Enjolras away by his arm with rough movements.

 

When they’d rounded the corner, Grantaire whistled over the man Azelma had addressed as Tholomyes, and asked to borrow a cigarette, to which the man had reluctantly handed one over.

 

“Strange,” the old man remarked. “The young gentleman slipped so suddenly you had time to remove your shoes and jacket.” And then left Grantaire with his heart beating quickly in fear at the clear accusation. If the _help_ treated him like that, then dinner was going to be just _delightful_ then, wasn’t it? Oh, but he really couldn’t wait to see Enjolras again, and wouldn’t have accepted the invite without that possibility on the table. With a skip in his step, he retired to his shared room, thoughts of the old man gone and replaced by those of the angel he’d rescued that night.

 

While Grantaire laid back on his bed, dreaming of the-blonde haired beauty, Enjolras himself sat at his dressing room table, as Azelma walked into the room. “You’ve been acting melancholy Enjolras. I wont pretend to know why.” She admitted as he sat in front of him on the table, holding a rather large box. “I was intending to save this until the wedding, but I thought it’d be better of as a reminder of my feelings for you right now.” Enjolras drew his eyes to the box as it opened and revealed a gigantic blue diamond necklace, with studded clear rocks around the heart shaped center. “It’s diamond. 56 carats to be exact. I was told you’re very fond of pretty things. Far more than any gentleman should be, but I don’t mind.” She grinned as she put the necklace around his neck and watched it rest against his pale, bare chest. “It was worn by Louis the fourteenth, and was called ‘The Coeur de la mer’ or-“

 

“The Heart of the Ocean.” Enjolras translated, having learned French along with his heritage. Azelma didn’t look too pleased at being interrupted and had likely had somebody else translate the phrase for her but continued on anyway.

 

“It was made for royalty. We are royalty, Enjolras. There’s nothing I couldn’t give you, and there’s nothing I would deny you, if you would not deny me.” She put her hand on Enjolras’ thing and inched it upwards slightly, making her meaning clear. “Open you heart to me, Enjolras.” She asked, with a confident air that told Enjolras she definitely thought she was getting her own way, then she got up and left the room, the unwanted warmth of her hand still lingering on Enjolras’ thigh as his hand ghosted over the precious jewels trailing up his neck. Just like that, Azelma thought everything was going to get better. Throw money at him, and he should be get over himself. Grantaire wouldn’t have done that, Enjolras found himself thinking. No, _Grantaire would stay and talk to me, probably all night long, keeping up that gaze with those beautiful eyes and that beautiful face... No!_ He chided himself and took off the necklace, putting it on the table. Nothing good could come of wanting something he couldn’t have. As he got into his bed, he tried to think of anything other than Grantaire, but when he closed his eyes, he could only see the smiling artist, and eventually gave in, letting his dream self be swept off his feet by the mysterious man he was far too excited to be seeing again tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day was bright, warm, and full of hope. If there were birds at sea, they’d surely be chirping and singing a merry tune. Hand in hand with such a merry day came a merry attitude that seemed to envelop Enjolras and Grantaire as they strolled along the top deck, in a conversation so engaging that Enjolras found himself never wanting to go back to the ones he was usually subject to. He felt he could tell Grantaire anything, and the man wouldn’t judge him for it, not like they were being judged by everyone they passed. Enjolras in his cream and yellow suit with Grantaire in his dark baggy clothes held up by braces and a sketchbook in his hand weren’t exactly a perfect match in Enjolras’ world.

 

“-and then my folks died and I’ve been on my own since, hopping from place to place, sometimes making friends, sometimes quite the opposite. Jehan I found in an old alleyway tending to the abandoned cats. Never really managed to shake him off.” Enjolras huffed a laugh, and it was the most amused and carefree Grantaire had seen him, which was saying a lot. “Well, we’ve spent about half a day wandering along the deck chit-chatting about the weather and my childhood, but I figure that’s not why you brought me here, is it?”

 

Enjolras looked a little embarrassed at being called out, but otherwise kept up his straight faced mask, as he was taught to do. “You’re right, Monsieur, I actually-“

 

“Grantaire. Please, I’m hardly a Monsieur.”

 

“Grantaire.” Enjolras almost smiled but the slip of the expression was gone as quickly as it appeared. “I wanted to thank you for what you did the other night. Not just for pulling me back, but for your discretion.” Grantaire nodded and gave a kind smile to which Enjolras just sighed and ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Look, I know what you must be thinking, okay? Poor little rich boy, what does he know about misery?”

 

“No.” Grantaire said, and stopped so that Enjolras was forced to turn and look at him to continue their conversation. “Not at all. What I was thinking was, what could have happened to this boy to make him feel like he had no other way out?” Enjolras was taken aback by the serious tone and expression on the man before him, no hint of teasing or degrading written in his features at all, just concern.

 

“Well, I-“ He cut himself off, realizing he about to say _it was probably nothing_ , but then took in Grantaire’s expression again and huffed, frustrated. He walked to the side of the ship and looked over the ocean so he wouldn’t have to face the reaction of his conversation partner at his confession. “It’s everything. I don’t belong to this, to them! I wasn’t made to fit in with this pointless charade that involves degrading anyone and everything around me to make myself appear better. I don’t like ballroom dances or fancy dinners or even caviar! It’s disgusting, it makes me want to vomit but it’s part of my life. And that’s the thing exactly.” He turned and faced Grantaire, who was listening intently, with a neutral expression. “It’s not my life at all.” He held out his hand to show Grantaire his engagement ring and Grantaire let out a startled laugh.

 

“Look at the size of that thing! You’d have gone straight to the bottom… I thought the woman was supposed to get the ring anyhow?”

 

“Yes, well… I appear to have gotten a reputation.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“A pretty gentleman with pretty hair who likes pretty things. My fiancé means to degrade me by making me wear this. To show that she has the power, that she wears the trousers in the relationship so to speak, and she’s right.” He twirled the heavy ring around his finger as he spoke. “Invitations have been sent, a venue arranged, seating plans and floral arrangements made up and paid for and all the while I feel like I’m in the middle of a crowded room screaming and no one even looks up!” He was panting a little by the end and he left his hand alone to look up at Grantaire who caught his gaze immediately.

 

“Do you love her?” He asked.

 

“That’s rude! I don’t think that’s an appropriate-“

 

“It’s a simple question.”

 

“You shouldn’t be asking-“

 

“Why can’t you just answer the question?” Grantaire pressed and Enjolras let out a bark of laughter.

 

“We don’t even know each other, and we should not be having this conversation!” He rushed out, blushing and avoiding the topic all together.

 

“Is it because you’re against the sanctity of marriage or you know… the other thing?”

 

“Excuse me? What other thing?”

 

“Oh, come on, pretty boy with pretty hair. _The Other Thing.”_ Grantaire said the words with particular emphasis to get the words across to the oblivious blonde, then sighed when he realised his words were not getting through. “Is it because she’s a woman?” Enjolras spluttered and turned red, not prepared for the accusation in the least, and fully unable to deny it, giving Grantaire all the answer he needed. “Don’t worry, I wont tell a soul. Be a bit hypocritical of me, wouldn’t it?”

 

“You can’t just go around accusing people of things like that!”

 

“Why? Afraid your fiancé is going to find out? Trust me, please, I will keep your secret.”

 

Enjolras shook his head and held out his hand, which Grantaire took with a raised eyebrow, “I’m going to bid you farewell for now. I’m going to go because this is most certainly not a useful way to be spending my time, tending to such unfounded rumours! I came to thank you and now I have-”

 

“And you’ve insulted me.” Grantaire grinned as Enjolras kept shaking his hand, as he spoke.

 

“Well, you deserved it.”

 

“Quite right. I thought you were leaving.”

 

“I am.” Enjolras said, pulling his hand away and turning before spinning right back round again in a complete circle, much to Grantaire’s amusement. “You are so annoying!” He then thought for second. “Besides, I don’t have to leave. This is my part of the ship, you leave!”

 

“Ah ha! Now who’s being rude?”

 

Enjolras just rolled his eyes and took Grantaire’s book from him. “What is this stupid thing you’re carrying anyway?” He asked as he unbuttoned the leather and sat down on a near deck chair, perching the book in his lap, and looking over the contents with wide, impressed eyes. “Are you an artist or something? Because these are rather good. They’re… very good actually. Grantaire… it’s exquisite.”

 

Grantaire smiled and sat on the chair next to him, looking down at the work. “They didn’t think too much of it in Paris.”

 

“Paris? I’ve always wanted to go back there. You do get around for a po- well a- ah-“

 

“A poor guy, you can say it.” Grantaire laughed lightheartedly and Enjolras found it the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and listened eagerly as he flipped through the pages until he landed upon a few nude drawings of women and his cheeks heated as his eyes widened.

 

“Oh. And they’re from life?”

 

“Yes.” Grantaire bit his lip cheekily. “I know what you’re thinking and no, we didn’t have sex. She was a one-legged prostitute, but she had the most wonderful hands, you see?”

 

“Did you refrain from intercourse because she was a prostitute or… the other thing?” Enjolras asked, trying to keep the hope from his voice, not that it could possibly lead anywhere.

 

“Oh, I would have loved to, but she was a bit expensive for my taste.” Enjolras felt his heart deflate.

 

 

“Ah.” _Still alone, then. At least now I can’t get my heart broken._

 

“But my answer would have been the same had she been a man you understand.” _Well that goes against my justification!_ _Is that better or worse?_ Enjolras thought, as he couldn’t help an involuntary smile cross his lips, which swelled Grantaire with pride. He’d do anything to see that smile again. “She did have a great sense of humour though.”

 

Enjolras looked over the drawings with amazement still. “You have a gift, Grantaire. You see people.”

 

“I see you.”

 

“And?”

 

“You wouldn’t have jumped.”

 

“Charming.” They both laughed, and spent the rest of the light of day in the same jolly mood, trading stories of their life to each other and enjoying themselves.

 

Sunset found them hanging over another edge of the ship, with Grantaire regaling Enjolras with times he had rode horse and ran through fields and done thing Enjolras always wished he could do.

 

“Why can’t I be like you, Grantaire?” He asked, looking into the other man’s eyes.

 

“You don’t have to be. We can do those things together. Lord knows the world doesn’t need two of me. We’ll drink cheap beer, and ride rollercoasters till we throw up. We’ll do it all.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“Promise.”

 

Enjolras found himself leaning into Grantaire’s space when they were interrupted by the familiar cough of his mother. Immediately Enjolras stepped back, putting more of an appropriate gap between them and facing his other and her pretentious friends, baronesses and duchesses and whatnot. “Mother…” Enjolras looked over her friends with a charming smile that had them flushing and offering their greetings also. “This is the man who saved me. Grantaire.”

 

While the other women where interested and eager to know more about Grantaire, Enjolras’ mother looked at him like he was a deadly virus, and it made Enjolras’ hate for her grow even stronger. How dare she judge a man so brilliant, so kind? Before she could manage an insult however, the signal for their dinner was given, and Enjolras dragged off by his arm as he shouted to Grantaire. “I’ll see you in a moment, Grantaire!” To which Grantaire nodded and smiled, with what Enjolras could see as a feint blush on his cheeks.

 

Grantaire didn’t know what to do for a second, staring after his sun god, and was pulled out of his daze by Molly Brown, who had been tugging on his sleeve. “What are you planning on wearing?” Grantaire realised as he looked down at his current outfit that maybe he wasn’t quite as prepared for the occasion as he thought. He shrugged. “Just as I thought. Come with me, and we’ll get you sorted for tonight. Got to at least look your best for these vultures, right?” He smiled and held his arm out which she took with a smile and kept her head held high as she escorted him to her room for a change for clothes.


	5. Chapter 5

After spending an hour, _an hour,_ getting dressed, Grantaire found himself at the foot of the grand staircase that had beautifully intricate statues. Grantaire couldn’t help frowning to himself. Work like that shouldn’t be a decoration, but a monument. It was beautiful, yet would only be displayed to those who could afford to see it, and that was something he would never understand. This was work that could be an inspiration, a motivation, a piece of cultural history, but it was denied that opportunity by being given to an undeserving and underappreciating group of snobs that pretended to understand it. Grantaire was getting himself irritated by it until his attention was quite instantly captured by Enjolras, standing at the top of the stairs in a dark purple suit that had golden patterns stitched into the lapels and pockets. The dark colour made his pale skin even more prominent, and the gold matched his hair. Before Grantaire knew it, Enjolras was stood in front of him, and it was only when he saw his mouth moving he realised he’d been staring a _little_ too intensely.

 

“I’m sorry what?”

 

“I said you’re staring.” Enjolras chuckled and Grantaire could help the twitch of his mouth into a smile that occurred at the melodic sound.

 

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

 

“Grantaire!” Enjolras chided quietly. “You mustn’t say things like that here. However, on the subject, you don’t look too bad yourself.” Enjolras smiled and brushed an imaginary bit of dust from Grantaire’s jacket just to touch him. “Where did you find this suit? It’s very top of the range for a… poor guy.”

 

With his characteristic grin and a wink, Grantaire stepped back and spun, showing off his new-found outfit. “I do suit it, don’t I? Perhaps I should invest in my own when I give this back to Molly.”

 

“On a first name basis now, are you?”

 

“Jealous, Darling?”

 

Enjolras took Grantaire’s arm to stop him from spinning. “Do behave yourself.” Though the order had no finality and was more of a tease than anything. “You know… If you like it all that much I could buy it for you?”

 

Grantaire snorted a laugh and Enjolras pulled his hand away from his arm to straighten out his own jacket in attempt to make his embarrassment less apparent. Grantaire noticed and linked his arm through Enjolras’. “It was a kind gesture, but I already told you I am not fond of such garments. I can hardly move as it is, I mean that spin took a few seams out, I’m sure. Best not to tell the owner, hm?”

 

Enjolras was about to reply when he saw his mother and fiancé coming their way and dropped Grantaire’s arm to greet them. As he spoke, Enjolras’ mothers’ eyes trailed to Grantaire, along with Azelma’s.

 

“Remarkable.” Azelma stated, matter of fact. “You could almost pass for a gentleman.” And then she took Grantaire’s arm, leaving Enjolras to go in to the dining hall with his mother, much to his annoyance. “If you ruin my reputation, you absolute ruffian, I will have you locked away, savior of my fiancé or not.” Azelma said conversationally, a smile on her face so as not to draw attention to them.

 

“I assure you, my purpose here has nothing to do with you, Your Highness.” Grantaire kept the same tone, and Azelma’s smile faltered as she heard Grantaire clearly make fun of her. Before she could get another word in, however, they were sitting at the dinner table, where Grantaire looked rather helplessly at the array of kitchenware laid out in front of him _. From the outside in_ , Molly had advised. Dear God, why was everything so ridiculously complicated? He was absolutely certain he’d not used more than he one same, and only, spoon in his possession for the last seven meals he’d had at least. As he was contemplating the ridiculous over-expense these people must waste on cutlery, Enjolras’ mother, looking at him with a very obviously cruel intent, brought him out of his reverie.

 

“Tell us, _Grantaire_ ,” she spoke his name as if it were a disease, and a particularly horrid one at that, “what is the accommodation like in steering?” If that was supposed to be a slight, Grantaire didn’t understand it, though the glare pointed at him was more than an obvious indicator that it was, in fact, meant to be offensive. What was so terribly wretched about having a bed to sleep in? About having a roof over his head? He couldn’t figure these people out at all. Instead of being equally malicious though, he just smiled politely, oozing the charm his own mother had been so fond of, and making a few of the women on the table lean in to await his answer.

 

“Sure as hell the best I’ve had Mrs. Enjolras! Hardly any rats.” The table gave a few startled laughs, and Enjolras’ mother set her face into a scowl that wasn’t too far from her usual expression. She had expected a less welcoming reception, then, but it seemed that Grantaire’s positive attitude and all together warm personality was more effective than any hand tailored suit he could have borrowed. Enjolras was brimming with unexplained pride.

 

“Grantaire saved Julian from a terrible fall yesterday, which is the reason he is dining with us tonight, as a thanks for saving the love of my life.” There were a few coos heard from around the table and Enjolras’ smile was so clearly fake Grantaire almost laughed.

 

“It turns out that Grantaire is quite a fine artist.” Enjolras got out quickly, before anyone could even think about giving more congratulations to the ‘happy’ couple. “He was kind enough to show me some of his work today.”

 

Azelma scoffed. “Enjolras and I differ somewhat in our definitions of art. Not to denounce your work, _Sir_.” Grantaire just shrugged, clearly not bothered by the clear implication that his work must be terrible because he’s poor, obviously. He was about to respond when a waiter came up behind him, holding a very finely detailed array of metal bowls and spoons.

 

“And how do you take your caviar, Sir?”

 

“Ah, no Caviar for me, thanks. Never did like it much.” Grantaire said with a sly smile in Enjolras’ direction, who returned it as discretely as he was able.

 

“Tell us, where do you live, Grantaire?” Madame Enjolras asked with feigned interest.

 

“Right now my humble address is the RMS Titanic and after that, who knows?” He leaned forward with a look of excitement on his features that had the people on the table waiting for him to follow up with tales of his future adventures, but Madame Enjolras spoke before he had a chance.

 

“And how is it you come by means of travel?”

 

“How do I get the money, you mean?” Grantaire gave her a grin, which only made her expression more sour, as she had thought she could have shown him up. “I work from place to place, you see. Any available job going in any place, and I’ll tell you now, the stories and experiences you gain are amazing. The ticket to Titanic I won working at a bar just on the harbor! A lucky hand if ever had one.”

 

“Life is just that, is it not?” One of the old men at the table boasted, holding up his glass. “A game of luck?”

 

“A real man makes his own luck, does he not?” Azelma added, directing her challenging glare at Grantaire, who just nodded.

 

“And you find that sort of ruthless existence appealing do you?” Enjolras’ mother asked with distain, earning a luck of shock and discomfort from some of the people around the table but Grantaire just took it in stride and made everyone feel more welcome to the conversation with his charming smile and jolly tone.

 

“Yes, Ma’am I do. I’ve got everything I need right here. Air in my lungs, a blank sheet of paper… Hell, I’ve even managed to make myself a few friendships these past few days, from a fan painter to a doctor, would you believe it? I love waking up and not knowing what the day has in store. Just the other night I was sleeping under a bridge and now look at me, on the biggest ship in the world dining and having champagne with you fine people. I figure life’s a gift and I don’t intend on wasting it.”

 

Enjolras gazed at Grantaire with wonder, and the two made eye contact, making Enjolras take in a sharp breath at the deep blue of Grantaire’s eyes, filled with truth and content as he spoke of a lifestyle of freedom Enjolras could never hope to have. Tearing away his gaze, he raised his glass and spoke quietly, “to making it count.”

 

Everyone on the table except Enjolras’ mother followed suit and raised their glasses to Grantaire’s speech, even Azelma after a glare and a roll of her eyes. The night continued on after that with Grantaire making everything about the dull dinner worth being there for. There was genuine laughter and fascinating first-hand tales of his life, and Enjolras was enamoured. When it was time for Grantaire to leave, he felt he could weep at the loss. The signal for him to go, of course, was when Azelma got up and grabbed Enjolras’ shoulders. “Shall I take you back to the cabin, Dear?”

 

“No, I’ll stay here.” Azelma shrugged and leaned down to kiss Enjolras but he swerved his face so her lips landed on his cheek, and with a quick last glare at Grantaire, she left with the gentlemen to discuss her fathers’ business, as she was apparently wont to do, without so much as a word of goodbye to Grantaire.

 

“Are you coming, Grantaire?” One of the men retiring to brandy and cigars asked. “Wouldn’t want to stay here with the rest of the women, would you?” Grantaire’s eyes travelled to Enjolras at the statement and saw the resigned look settle on the man’s face, which made his own expression drop a little, to see the fight so easily gone from the passionate man at the table.

 

Grantaire got up at the same time as the last of the gentlemen left, and having written a note with a borrowed pen through the awkward exchange between the engaged couple, kept crumpled paper in his hand as he shook hands with Enjolras, transferring the note discreetly. “It’s been a lovely night, but it’s time for me to go row with the other slaves.” He smiled happily at Enjolras’ responding laugh, and then trotted out of the door he came, a warm feeling in his chest.

 

After watching the retreating form of Grantaire with a nervous and shy smile, Enjolras unfolded the note in his lap, glancing down at the swirly writing as inconspicuously as he could:

 

_Make it count. Meet me at the clock!_

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

 

After a quick stop at Molly Brown’s cabin where Grantaire had changed and come back out in his old baggy clothing, they headed down the lower decks, where the classical music dimmed down and the smell of rose water faded to give way to jumpy tunes with rhythm and the strong smell of alcohol and salt-water. Grantaire introduced Enjolras to a few of his friends, who were surprisingly completely indifferent to his lavish style of suit and gave him a pint as he sat down, while Grantaire was dragged off by a small, blonde child.

 

“I can’t believe he got you down here!” A man said to Enjolras’ right, with a very strong Irish accent. “I’m Courfeyrac.”

 

“Enjolras.”

 

Courfeyrac nodded and pointed to the man sitting opposite him, who was swaying and laughing for no good reason. “That’s Bahorel.” And then he pointed to the man in front of Enjolras, wearing a flat cap and swaying along with Bahorel. “And that’s Feuilly.”

 

The man in question, Feuilly, spoke a very quick and excited sentence in what Enjolras vaguely picked out as Polish or something of the sort, and quickly apologized, stating he couldn’t understand the man, to which Feuilly only shrugged, as if to say _worth a try_ , and Enjolras laughed delightedly. Someone then fell to the ground a few steps away, then got up and was handed another drink, which he took with a smile, and Courfeyrac laughed loud and deep. “That would be Bossuet, slow on his feet even before the alcohol reached his system, and the two helping him up would be Joly and Combeferre. Combeferre is a doctor, see? Boss needs him on tap, and Joly is a doctor in training he claims, though I personally think he has the hots for the clumsy bastard.”

 

Enjolras felt his face redden at that and Courfeyrac chuckled. Just as he was about to say something a familiar looking man sauntered over to the table, and Enjolras recognized him as the man Grantaire had been next to that very first day he’d seen him on the top deck. “And this!” Courfeyrac shouted proudly, getting up to pick the small man up and spin him around, finishing his sentence when he let the giggling victim of his affection down, “is Jehan! A beautiful soul if there ever was one!” Enjolras was elated for them, truly happy to see so many people enjoying themselves freely, uncaring of what anyone thought, and even if they had cared, it was clear that there were no judgments in the eyes of these people, only acceptance. He simultaneously felt ridiculously out of place, and the most normal he had ever felt. It was unusual but not unwelcome.

 

Enjolras’ thoughts were then broken as the very key to Enjolras’ current happiness pushed through the crowds, with the small blonde boy walking on the toes of his boots. It was a sight that inexplicably brought a smile to Enjolras’ face. It was short lived however, as he let go of the small boy and spoke to him clearly. “I’m going to dance with him now, alright?” The boy pouted and Grantaire ruffled his hair. “Come now, Gavroche, you’re still my favourite dancing partner.” This seemed to appease the small boy, who then ran off in search of mischief, leaving Grantaire to pull Enjolras up by his hand and hold him around the waist, making them receive wolf whistles from those immediately around them.

 

“I don’t know the ah… steps to this song.”

 

“We’ll have to get a little closer. Like this.” Grantaire used his hand around Enjolras’ waist to pull them chest to chest, then started moving his feet and spinning them around to the beat of the violins and drums and Enjolras felt the excitement running through his veins. “Just don’t think!”

 

Once Enjolras took this advice and let go, the couple found themselves dancing on a platform in the middle of the floor, with a few other people, the room bustling around them. Enjolras couldn’t contain his excitement and energy, being thrown around by Grantaire and loving every minute of having the other man’s body pressed to his as they danced, completely care free. Grantaire then stepped away from hm and started doing some sort of tap dance to the beat and Enjolras, too high on his enjoyment to care for embarrassing himself took a minute to remember dancing lessons as a child and quickly joined in and kept up fairly well, earning an impressed glance from Grantaire, before he was being linked by the arm and swung around again, then spun until the music ended, when he collapsed heavily into Grantaire’s side, panting and laughing as he was dragged back over the table where Grantaire’s friends were sat, Courfeyrac in an arm wrestle with Feuilly and looking like he was about to bust a vein in the effort of just keeping up with the strength of the other man. Grantaire grabbed two pints of beer, and handed one to Enjolras, who tipped his head back and quickly drained the glass, feeling absolutely euphoric with Grantaire’s amazed and amused eyes upon him. There was a crash of glasses that broke them from their small bubble, and Enjolras scoffed playfully at the pained look of Courfeyrac who was begging for a rematch.

 

In his haze of absolute delight, Enjolras failed to see the looming figure of Tholomyes on the staircase, glaring at Enjolras, and Grantaire’s arm around him as they leaned into each other and laughed at the scene before them. It was the last thing he saw before departing back to report his findings, leaving Enjolras and Grantaire to their night together.

 

Having not seen the old man, Enjolras was the happiest he had ever been, especially as a new tune started up and he was dragged into a long line of dancing people by Jehan, and then took Grantaire in his other hand and joined in the fun in any way he could for the rest of the night, feeling for the first time as if he was part of something worth being a part of. As if he was _worth something_ other than money and status. He was starting to see himself through Grantaire’s eyes, and it was wonderful.


	6. Chapter 6

By the next morning, Enjolras could find himself thinking of nothing else other than the next time he was going to see Grantaire. He had slipped away from the parties of the lower deck last night without much hassle and slipped into his bed, pulling the covers up over his giddy smile and even having to stifle a laugh or two at the fresh memories. He’d slept soundly dreaming of black curly hair, and charcoal-blackened hands. When he woke up, he had been relaxed and warm and more comfortable than he had been in a while. _Happy_ , he believed the word was.

 

Before he got a chance to venture anywhere, however, he was informed by Cosette that he was to attend breakfast with his fiancé in their tea room. He didn’t think much of it, and dressed in a well-fitted cream suit with details he thought Grantaire was sure to appreciate when they eventually found each other during the course of the day. Wanting to make the meeting with his fiancé go by as quickly as possible, he fidgeted while he sat, delicately holding a tea cup and crossing his legs to try and stop the nervous tapping of his foot while he thought about what he and Grantaire could do today, what he could learn about the other man, who else he would meet, what-

 

“I hoped you would come to me last night.” At the disappointed admission from Azelma he focused his wandering gaze on the woman sat before him and lowed his teacup to his lap with a gentle sigh. He had never set out to offend the woman, no matter how awful she had been to him, and how much she expected of him from her privilege alone. His faith in people had told him that over time that he would grow to love her as a man should love a woman, or maybe that was just his mothers’ lessons taking a forefront in his thinking. Either way, he would not deliberately offend her honour, which she chose to hold so dear, and so lied in response.

 

“I was tired.”

 

“Your exertions below deck were no doubt exhausting.” She spoke with a flat tone, though her expression betrayed her anger. Enjolras took a deep, shaky breath, aware that the expression on his fiancé’s face was one that inevitably led to somebody getting hurt, but he would stand his ground. He had done nothing wrong, and refused to be ashamed of enjoying himself. Refused to be ashamed of _keeping company_ with _Grantaire_.

 

“I see you had that undertaker of a manservant follow me. How typical.” With the fed up words, he glanced to the side and motioned subtly with a head tilt for Cosette to leave the room, who had been idly waiting for instruction and to serve the couple. She scurried out and Enjolras drew his gaze back to Azelma, who was not even remotely trying to keep the anger from her features.

 

“Never behave like that again. You’re becoming an embarrassment and I will not allow myself to be dragged down with you, do you understand?” She asked, in the same monotone as before, keeping a steady glare focused on Enjolras, who refused to wither beneath it.

 

“I am not a foreman in one of your mills that you can command.” He said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. If his father had heard him speaking like this he’d have been beaten to a pulp in minutes, but his father wasn’t there. This was a conversation between an engaged couple, between what should be _equals. “_ I am your fiancé-“

 

“My fiancé?” Azelma repeated, giving a quick grin and nodding before shouting the words, “My fiancé!” The tightly held anger seemed to explode in that moment as she jumped up and pushed the contents of the table to the floor, sending shards across the previously clear wood. The unexpected jolt shocked Enjolras, so he jumped, pouring the scolding tea on to his lap, but was too scared to yelp, or take his eyes from Azelma’s. The only challenge he could offer was silence and a resolute expression. He would not let her win this, even if he could feel the burning liquid seeping through the fabric on his legs and stomach. Keeping the stare, she pushed the table from between them, tipping everything left over and leaving everything sprawled in a mess, making Enjolras drop the cup too, and grab onto the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep a neutral expression, even as his body shook and his breath came in deep drags. Azelma saw this and moved forward, grabbing onto Enjolras’ chair by the arms near his hands and putting a distance of a mere few inches between them. “You are my husband in practice if not yet by law so you will honour me.” Enjolras felt tears start to gather in his eyes but refused to let them fall, keeping eye contact with Azelma out of fear of what would happen should he break it. “You will honour me in the way a husband is required to honour a wife. I will not be made a fool of because you fancy a starving artist boy,” Enjolras opened his mouth to retort but she interrupted, “don’t act like you don’t want him. Hell, I’d rather have him than you he’s more a man than you’ll ever be! But you will worship me, and only me, is that in any way unclear?” Enjolras shook his head, diverting his gaze down finally. “Good.” And then she let go, sweeping out of the room with an air of finality than made Enjolras truly and honestly hate her like he hadn’t hated anyone before, except perhaps his father, and maybe mother.

 

As soon as the doors to the room outside slammed shut, Cosette came rushing in and got to her knees, picking up shards of pottery that had fallen. “L-Let me help you.” Enjolras begged as he got to his knees, cutting them on stray pieces on the floor, not that he felt anything beyond the lump in his throat as he attempted to hold back his sorrow.

 

“It’s alright, Enjolras, I’ve got it.”

 

“No, no, I’ll help, I can help I can do it, I-“

 

“Enjolras.” Cosette said, holding Enjolras’ hands gently between her own. “I know what it’s like. It’s going to hurt, it’s going to rip your heart out.”

 

“It’s that Pontmercy fellow, isn’t it? I saw the way you looked at him when he was at tea with us the other day. It’s the way…” He trailed off, not wanting to face the end of the sentence.

 

“It’s the way Grantaire looks at you.”

 

At the mention of his name, paired with the inevitability that he was never going to see him again, he felt a tear make its way down his cheek, and once he started he couldn’t stop. He felt Cosette’s arms come around him, and fell easily into her embrace, sobbing quietly. “I wore this suit for him, you know-“ He hitched a breath, and Cosette ran a calming hand through his hair. “He won’t like it now, covered in tea and blood. He doesn’t like suits very much I don’t think.” A watery laugh. “But he seems to like me in them.”

 

Cosette smiled. “He most certainly does, doesn’t he?”

 

Enjolras nodded, and waited for his breathing to calm and tears to stop before he gently got out of Cosette’s hold and looked down at the product of his fiancé’s rage. “We’d better get this cleaned up, hm?” Seeing the defeated look in Enjolras’ eyes, Cosette didn’t have the heart to argue with him.

 

Once they were done, Cosette lead Enjolras back to his room and he divested himself of his clothing, Cosette laying out his next outfit that was not covered in liquids. She washed a few of his cuts and scrapes and put a soothing lotion on the areas where the tea had left a red surface on his pale skin. He insisted that he could do it himself, but Cosette batted away his hands and by the end his hold was steady and his body relaxed again. He thanked Cosette as he buttoned up the last of his new clothes, and was happy getting ready in the calm and comfortable silence until-

 

“Tea, Cosette.” The order came from the familiar voice of his mother, and made Cosette flee the room to the kitchens where she’d been ordered to leave them alone.

 

Enjolras rolled his eyes and tried not to let his annoyance show at his friend being so grossly mistreated. Batting his hands away, his mother started buttoning up his shirt again, as if he were still a child. “You will not see that boy again, do you understand?” His mother asked and Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I forbid it.”

 

“Oh stop it mother, you’ll give yourself a nose bleed.”

 

Her expression suddenly turned far too serious for Enjolras’ liking and she pulled a tie around his neck, tightening it as she continued speaking, and Enjolras knew a threat when he felt one. “You know the money, _our_ money is gone. This is not a game. Your father left us debt hidden by a good name, which is the only thing we have left. It’s a fine match I’ve gotten you here. It will ensure our survival.”

 

“How can you expect me to carry this out? How can you put that responsibility on my shoulders.”

 

“Why are you being so selfish?” She asked, tying a knot and letting the tie slide from her hand, folding his collar, but keeping her hands menacingly around Enjolras’ neck for as much time as possible, lingering more than necessary.

 

“ _I’m_ being selfish?”

 

“Do you want to see me working as a seamstress? To our things sold at auctions? To see our memories scattered to the winds?” Her hands left him completely as they covered her crying eyes, and Enjolras felt his heart tighten in his chest, for even if he wasn’t fond of his mother, and knew she was deliberately manipulating him, he did not want to be cruel.

 

“That’s unfair.”

 

“Of course it’s unfair, but that’s life. We all have out cross to bear.”

 

Enjolras nodded, and let his mother continue dressing him in a now awkward silence that made him anxious more than anything. Though his mother’s words rang in his head he couldn’t get the sight of Grantaire’s smug smile form his mind and he felt his throat go dry and it was suddenly difficult to swallow, but he hid it from his mother well. All he wanted was to see the artist’s smile, a sure way for him to be filled with that same happy feeling from this morning, but he knew that it was no longer a possibility, nor would it ever be again if his fiancé had anything to do with it.

 

 

\-----------------------------------

 

 

Grantaire skipped his way through top deck, greeting all he met cheerily and bringing smiles to the faces of those he shared his open joy with. He made his way to where he could hear songs, melodic and sweet, and figured that Enjolras would most likely be in a place surrounded by such beautiful things, being the most beautiful thing on the ship. The only thing between him and the room full of music was a glass doorway, guarded by two very well dressed men.

 

“Excuse me, sir, you’re not allowed here.”

 

“What?” Grantaire asked, though not harshly, a smile still plastered across his face. “Why, I was here just the other night don’t you recognize me?” And then his eyes caught onto a figure that came through the door, alerted to his presence by the noise. “He’ll tell you.”

 

“Mr. Grantaire-“

 

“Just Grantaire, please.”

 

“-Madame Thernadier and Madame Enjolras are very grateful for your service to Monsieur Enjolras and asked me to give you this.” Tholomyes said, as if he hadn’t been interrupted, grabbing a wad of money form his pocket and holding it out to Grantaire, who looked at it with a look of confusion.

 

“I don’t want this, sir. Please, I just-“

 

“They also wish for me to remind you that you are in possession of a third class ticket and that your presence here is no longer appropriate.”

 

For the first time since he’d met Enjolras, Grantaire’s confidence faltered. “Please, I just want to speak to Enjolras for a minute-“

 

“Gentlemen.” Tholomyes gestured to the two men standing at the door. “Please take this man back to his deck.” He handed them the money and he was dragged off unceremoniously, even while he made no struggle against them. All he was thinking about was a way he could get back to his muse without drawing any more unwanted attention to himself, which was why after a few hours spent patrolling around the decks, wallowing in his own self pity, he found himself climbing over the railing and into first class again, taking a stray coat form a deck chair to appear like he belonged there, along with a stupidly large hat and stood behind some life boats to hide from a few guards coming his way, when heard the telltale voice of his angel coming his way. He waited for Enjolras to fall back, as he knew he would, being not at all interested in what was being thrown his way, and then grabbed his arm and pulled him into the empty Gym.

 

“Grantaire, this is impossible. I can’t see you.” Enjolras said, already feeling himself crumble as Grantaire shut the door behind them, and then took off the hat and threw it to the ground.

 

“I need to talk to you.”

 

“No. Grantaire, I am engaged.” Enjolras said, matter of fact. “I’m marrying Azelma. I love Azelma.” He said, trying to sound sincere but failing miserably, being too distracted by the crystal blue of Grantaire’s eyes, looking skeptically back into his own.

 

“Enjolras, you’re no picnic, you’re a spoiled little brat even, but under that, under this,” He ran a hand down Enjolras’ new suit, and Enjolras couldn’t help the thought, _you’d have the liked the one I picked out_ , drifting through his head, “you’re the most amazing, incredible, passionate, intelligent man I’ve ever met. You’re just-“ He paused, trying to make up the words that seemed to be difficult for him to spit out as his mind failed him in the presence of his sun god. “I’m not an idiot, alright? I have maybe ten pounds and a sketchbook to my name. I have nothing to offer you and I know that but I’m involved now. You jump, I jump, remember?” Oh Enjolras does remember, very well, _too_ well and if he doesn’t stop this soon he’s going to either start crying again or he’s going to kiss that ridiculously handsome, loving expression from the artist’s face and neither of those options could ever work out in his favour. “I can’t walk away without knowing you’re okay.”

 

“Well, I’m fine.” Enjolras lied, and saw Grantaires frown. “I’m going to be fine, really.”

 

“Really? I don’t think so. They’ve got you trapped, Enjolras. You’re gonna die if you don’t break free, maybe not right now because you’re strong but sooner or later that fire that I love about you, Enjolras.” He reached a rough, work-beaten hand to Enjolras’ smooth cheek and brushed away a stray tear with his thumb, smiling at the sheer amount of unrestrained affection in Enjolras gaze. “That fire’s going to burn out.”

 

“Its not up to you to save me, Grantaire.”

 

“You’re right.” Enjolras was lost in Grantaires intense passion now, and leaned closer unconsciously. “Only you can do that.”

 

Enjolras tried to escape the love in Grantaire’s eyes only to have his sight dart down to his mouth as his vision clouded with unshed tears. He couldn’t have this. This could lead nowhere. He wasn’t meant to be happy, he wasn’t taught to be happy. He couldn’t inflict himself on Grantaire because he loved him and Grantaire was too good a man to deserve a train wreck like Enjolras. _I love you_ _too_ , he wanted to say, but what came out was, “I’m going back _.” I don’t want to_. “Leave me alone.” _Don’t give up on me. I’ve never loved until I loved you_. And then he was leaving Grantaire in the room alone, dealing with his heart break by himself and putting up a front for his family, while all he heard, saw and felt was Grantaire, who was left suffering in much the same way, a fact Enjolras was eager to try to forget.


	7. Chapter 7

Once again, by no desire of his own, Enjolras found himself seated at a table, listening to a dull conversation while his attention wandered to anything and everything, as long as it could keep his mind away from Grantaire and the fascinating people he’d met below deck. He supposed it would only be possible to drown out Grantaire in the way his mother expected him to, with materialistic surroundings, and so he tried, but found nothing that didn’t receive a critical analysis from the running commentary of the artist in his head. Carefully, his expression remained neutral in the presence of his mother, and then his eyes were drawn to a scene before him, where a mother and her daughter no older than five years old were sat, dressed in white, over the top gowns as the mother continually pushed her daughter into a proper sitting position, despite how clearly uncomfortable it was for her. The young girl then lifted a table napkin and placed on her lap with her pinky fingers up, as a lady was expected to do, and smiled at her mother, yearning for approval.

 

The sight stirred something in Enjolras that he found rather unpleasant. It brought back memories of his father using a cane on him when he slouched in public, and his mother locking him in his room with nothing to eat and drink for a few days when he embarrassed her by acting out of term in public. This wasn’t right. Grantaire was right. He was trapped, and only he could save himself, but the man wouldn’t want to see him now, surely? Not after how cruel he had been. As he contemplated this, his mother continued chatting, not even batting an eye lid at his abrupt apologies and absence, stating he did not feel well.

 

His chest ached yet at the same time he felt completely empty. His eyes stung and his body was shaking, and he realised with a small amount of surprise that he was scared. It was the same type of fear that had led him to the back of the ship that night. The kind that came from a loss of something, and this time being the loss of the one person who saw him as worthy of living for more than their own benefit. He rushed off, as soon as he was able, to the lower decks, hiding his face in his own class’ company until he escaped, knowing that afterwards no one would bother to look for him if they thought he was minding his own business in his cabin.

 

He spent hours walking around the entire lower deck, finding only random people who still greeted him and made him feel welcome even though he clearly didn’t fit in. Eventually, he stumbled upon Combeferre, who was tending to a small injury on Bossuet in one of the public bars, and asked where Grantaire could be found. In response, he was told Grantaire would be at the front of the ship, most likely.

 

“Oh, and Enjolras?” The blonde had heard as he was leaving, and turned to face Combeferre with a questioning look. “He really does love you, and I know you love him too so just… Just don’t deny yourself that, okay? Stay here, with us, if you must. We most certainly would appreciate your company, and we can help.”

 

“Thank you.” Enjolras said with a warm smile, and was fully sincere in his gratitude, making Combeferre nod with a mirrored expression and send him on his way.

 

Enjolras found Grantaire where he expected, leaning over the rails and watching the foam splashing on the sides of the ship. Not wanting to break the moment too much, he approached slowly, and said nervously while fiddling with his hands, “hello, Grantaire.”

 

The artist’s reaction was immediate, his head whipping around to the voice as if he hadn’t believed it was real. As if he’d heard that voice often in his head and opened his eyes to an empty space. Enjolras felt a new wave of guilt consume him. “I’ve changed my mind?” He said, and prepared inwardly for his apology, which he had been fussing over in his head for the past few hours as he watched the sun go down, and fretted over Grantaire. “They said you might be up here”

 

“Shh.” Grantaire put a finger over his lips with a grin and Enjolras saw nothing in the world past that lovely expression. The guilt and regret faded into a burst of love so overwhelming he could feel his heart beating in his chest and went a little numb, then blushed a dark red. There was nothing he could do to stop himself being brought in and wrapped up by warmth that Grantaire exuded and he never once felt ashamed of it. It was all he’d ever wanted and he’d never have known if he hadn’t met Grantaire. “Give me your hand.” And Enjolras took the offered hand slowly but surely, laying all his trust in Grantaire’s joyous smile, letting himself be pulled forward. “Close your eyes.” As much as he wanted to obey, the sentence fell on almost deaf ears as he focused on Grantaire’s sea blue eyes. “Go on.” He closed them, and the heat from Grantaire’s hand in his became much more prominent. “Now, step up.” Grantaire said, a hand on Enjolras’ back and pushing him forward until he hit the railing and nervously climbed onto the lowest bar, holding onto the top railing for dear life. He didn’t like where this was going. Perhaps he had angered Grantaire more than he had initially thought, but he knew even if Grantaire were to push him away right now, he would let him. Never before had he trusted someone so wholly and completely. “Keep your eyes closed, no peeking.”

 

“I’m not.” Enjolras said with a nervous laugh.

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

“Yes.” Enjolras answered without hesitation and with complete honesty, and he’d never been as open as he was being now. He felt Grantaire’s hands incase his and gently pry his finger from the railing as he pressed himself up behind Enjolras, keeping him firmly between himself and the bars in front of them. He then opened Enjolras’ arms outwards, and Enjolras followed shakily, lifting his arms up, but not wanting to fall. He felt safe, yes, but the last time he’d been on a railing like this…

 

“Open your eyes.” He did, and instantly felt Grantaire’s hands move to his waist, strong and firm and safe. He knew then, in that moment, that as long as Grantaire was with him, he was safe, loved and happy. This was a bravery Enjolras had not known. If his mother had caught him like this he’d be chained to his bed or something equally as embarrassing to keep him from Grantaire’s company, but as it was, Enjolras couldn’t bring himself to think about it as he looked over the sunset, painting the sky purple, orange and dark blue. The smell of the ocean was fresh and clear and the wind blowing through his hair did nothing to cool the heat in his face, or the warmth coming from Grantaire, and he had never felt more alive than in this moment. Nature bustled around him, the ship behind and not in sight, and the one man he could truly say he loved held him close, keeping him steady and grounded as he appreciated what was around him without the need to evaluate its monetary worth. He suddenly felt that he had been cheated from this incredible experience his entire life, and wondered how the people he was born a part of had the nerve to call themselves cultured while living in the fabricated reality of pretention they’d made for themselves.

 

“It’s Breathtaking.” He felt more than heard the gravelly laugh from directly beside his ear.

 

While admiring the view, Enjolras felt Grantaire slowly slide his arms upwards until his hands were tangled with Enjolras’ and rested his chin on Enjolras’ shoulder, singing softly in a low voice, “Come Josephine, My flying machine, going up she goes, up she goes…” Enjolras giggled, honest to god _giggled_ at the childish song and thought to himself that he’d never been as delighted to be in someone’s company as the man with him now. Grantaire was the only man in the entire word that could capture his attention so completely with a simple tune. He could listen to that voice for hours and not once would he find his attention wandering. Then Grantaire folded his arms in front of Enjolras, holding him in a comfortable embrace while they enjoyed the ocean reflecting the bleeding light of the sun as it forced the day into the night, allowing them to bear witness to its splendor. It felt surreal to Enjolras, how much beauty was to be found in this singular moment, and he was glad he was able to experience it, and share it with the one thing more beautiful than anything he’d ever known, both inside and out.

 

Then he felt Grantaire’s soft breath at his neck and turned to look at him as the artist met his gaze and angled his face slightly. All Enjolras could see was the adoration in Grantaire’s eyes as the blue reflected the colours of the sky within them, and then his own eyes closed as he brought his own face closer with a tilt to match Grantaire’s and when their lips finally met, soft and tentative, Enjolras’ world burst into colour behind eyes. He knew if Grantaire had not been holding him he would have buckled. As Grantaire slowly but surely worked his tongue into the blonde’s mouth, Enjolras reached his hand back into Grantaire’s hair and found that it was just as soft as he had dreamed, if not more so, and this moment was more unbelievably magical than he ever could have made up in his sleep. If Enjolras had any pre-conceived notions of love, they had vanished in this moment replaced only by Grantaire, and he would not have had it any other way.

 

 

\----------------------------------------

 

 

“And that was the last time Titanic ever saw daylight.” Enjolras said, looking over the smiling faces of the crewmembers and godson before him.

 

“The night of the sinking.” Lovett said, matter of fact. “Only a few hours to go.”

 

“Unbelievable.” The scientist from earlier exclaimed. “The Captain had the iceberg warning in his fucking hand- Excuse me.” He directed at Enjolras, and received an amused smile in response. “His hand, ordering more speed!”

 

“26 years of experience working against him. They think they’re going to see anything too big too sink it.”

 

Enjolras listened and nodded. “He was very sure of himself, I can tell you that much. When my mother and I had spoken to him, he told us we were just fine. This, of course, was after I was assured vehemently that there were enough lifeboats, should the boat sink, which it most definitely would not. The biggest, fasted ship in the world, how could anything go wrong? Well, what would I have known?”

 

“You’d have known more than they ever had. Pretentious lot of dicks if you ask me.” Grantaire spoke for the first time since Enjolras had began his story, and Enjolras looked at him.

 

“Grantaire Pontmercy! You’re far too young to be so vulgar. Your mother and father would kill me if they heard you talking like that!” Enjolras chastised.

 

“I’m 28-“

 

“-He would have liked you, _my_ Grantaire.” Enjolras interrupted. “You would have liked him too. He, too, did not care for social conventions, or rules at all for that matter.”

 

“Would you tell us the rest, Mr. Enjolras?” Mr. Lovett asked, and Enjolras nodded.

 

“We made our way back to my deck after that, carefully mind you, and managed to get back to my rooms, unseen…”

 

 

\--------------------------------------

 

 

“This is the sitting room.” Enjolras said as he swept into the area with grace, leaving Grantaire to trail in behind, looking in amazement at the extravagant details. “Will this light do? Artists need good light, don’t they?”

 

“That’s true.” Grantaire admitted, then frowned. “But I am not used to working in such horrible conditions!” Grantaire said over-dramatically and Enjolras laughed. “Monet?” Grantaire asked out of the blue and dived towards a canvas leaning against a cabinet. When Enjolras looked to see what he was doing, he found an involuntary smile on his face while he watched Grantaire go over the details with his hand while avoiding touching the actual painting. “This is incredible. Its just… It’s beautiful in ways I can’t possibly comprehend.”

 

Enjolras shook his head and left Grantaire to wax poetic to himself about the paintings, and moved to the safe Azelma had insisting on carting around with them everywhere, taking out the carefully packaged diamond and moving to his bedroom where he quickly got himself into a see through, lacy red robe and walked out into the sitting room, once again finding Grantaire kneeling in front of the artwork, transfixed. He walked up behind him and slid the necklace into his hand. “It’s diamond.”

 

“Wow. It’s massive.”

 

“Quite.” Enjolras found his heart skipped at how Grantaire had clearly found more interest in the artistic expression of Monet than a piece of pressurized rock, a trait not one other person in his class could relate to. “Grantaire… I want you to draw me like one of your French girls.”

 

“Alright.” Grantaire still hadn’t looked away form the painting, only loosely holding onto the necklace as he went over every fine detail with the movement of his eyes.

 

“Wearing this.” Grantaire nodded. “Wearing only this.” At that, Grantaire finally looked up and found Enjolras wearing only the robe and in doing so his mouth dropped a fraction. He wanted to respond but found no way to possibly say anything that could express the wonder on his face, or the excitement in his mind, or the love in his heart. “The last thing I need,” Enjolras spoke, helping Grantaire to his feet and planting him in a chair as he did so, “is another portrait of me looking like a porcelain doll. As a paying customer, I expect to get what I want.” Enjolras flipped a coin into Grantaire’s lap and stepped back, taking a deep breath.

 

He removed the robe slowly, letting the thin fabric slide over his skin and pool at his feet, letting the air around them cool his quickly growing, heated blush, that only got warmer on his cheeks and seemingly down his neck as Grantaire stared unabashedly. He was about to cross his arms over himself and protect his vulnerable state, until Grantaire shook himself and pointed at the chaise lounge, motioning for Enjolras to lie down. He did and moved his arm as he did, and Grantaire quickly amended that with a shout of, “No! No, put that arm back where it was.” The last sentence he spoke with a softer tone, “and bring your other hand up just against you face there… yeah… okay now keep your eyes on me, don’t look away,” as if I could look anywhere else, “and keep your face neutral, no smiling, alright? Just relax.” Enjolras got a little grin in before he settled his face and relaxed, doing as Grantaire said.

 

Enjolras had never been under such intense scrutiny before, or at least not that he’d cared so much about. Up until this moment, Enjolras had never been truly bothered about what people thought of his looks, and took in the stares he received from women openly, invitingly, and with the charm his mother had told him was appropriate, but now he was nervous, and wanted to do his best to please Grantaire. He watched the artist with bated breath, as his eyes darted to all parts of Enjolras’ body as he focused his drawing on them, and couldn’t help but smile at Grantaire’s reddened cheeks when his eyes found Enjolras’ lower body.

 

“I do believe you are blushing, Monsieur Grantaire. I can’t imagine Monsieur Monet blushing.” Enjolras teased.

 

“He does landscapes, now keep your face relaxed.” Grantaire ordered, trying to hide his blush with his sketchbook, but to no avail, with his eyes peeking over the top so he could still see his muse, and the affection was something he could not contain, at which Enjolras struggled to keep his neutral expression at, feeling absolutely giddy inside, and something else he hadn’t felt towards someone else before…

 

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

 

When Grantaire had finished with his drawing, Enjolras quickly put the thin robe back on and ran to his room to change back into his clothes, looking in the mirror and trying to quickly pat down the blush on his face. He felt less self-conscious wrapped in a shirt and trousers, though they were still tailored to the shape of his body, so left little to the imagination anyway. For the first time since having them made, he noticed how the fabric clung to his skin, and complimented his figure, showing off the hard lines of his muscles where appropriate and making him look more attractive than he thought he was worth, until he had met Grantaire at least. He quickly straightened a few of the creases in his clothes, put a half used bottle of oil in his pocket _just in case_ , and walked out, feeling more vulnerable than he had naked, knowing that it may be the last time he stepped foot in that room if he planned on hiding away with Grantaire. He crossed over the hallway to the sitting room where Grantaire was sat with the drawing in his lap, and Enjolras’ jaw almost dropped.

 

After Grantaire signed a small R in the corner along with the date, he closed the sketchbook and handed to Enjolras who, at a loss for words at the brilliance of the man before him, took it with an appreciative kiss, unable to keep a joyful giggle from escaping into Grantaire’s mouth. What they had just done was scandalous, improper, _exciting._ Leaving Grantaire in the chair, he walked away with the sketchbook to the small room containing the safe and wrote a small note on a piece of paper to his fiancé, reading: ‘ _Darling, now you can keep us both locked in your safe, Enjolras_.’ Which went in the safe alongside the drawing and the necklace.

 

When he went back he found Grantaire wandering around and running his fingers along gold patterns in the walls and fireplace with a bored expression, though when he heard Enjolras re-enter he turned to the man with a beautifully happy smile. “You look amazing.”

 

“Really? I dressed up for you the other day and you didn’t like it but I put a shirt and trousers on and you’re sold? Just like that?”

 

“Well, I-“

 

“Monsieur Enjolras?” Came the voice of Tholomyes from outside the door, and Enjolras’ eyes widened comically before he lunged at Grantaire, taking his hand and pulling him through a door to another room, which led to another and so forth until they were in the hallway, with doors opening behind them every step they went as they both struggled to be silent in their movements. Eventually, they were back in the common hall way, both with hearts pounding at the fear of being caught but walking slowly so as not to appear suspicious when they saw the door behind them open and a very annoyed looking Tholomyes come out, who started walking towards them very quickly.

 

“Shit. Follow me!” Enjolras said, grabbing Grantaire once again and not even building up a pace, but sprinting and dragging the artist behind them as they both laughed at the childishness of the chase they were in. At the turn of a corner Grantaire found himself ungraciously thrown into a lift with the metal doors closing in front of him before he and Enjolras were heading lower, hand in hand, while Enjolras used his other hand to flip off the old man, making Grantaire laugh delightedly with raised eyebrows. _So much for a high society snob._ The moment was short lived however as they poured out of the lift when it hit the lower level and began running again as Tholomyes rounded the corner of the bottom of the staircase and ended up hiding away in a tiny room with a very suspicious looking hole in the floor with handles leading down.

 

“Now what?” With a shrug, Grantaire climbed the handle bars and Enjolras followed, both ending up running through the boiler rooms, shoving past men throwing coal into the ships machinery, until they ended up in the huge store room amongst the more expensive and large things being held for the higher class.

 

Upon the sigh of a fancy car, Grantaire was off, bouncing in to the front seat and gesturing for Enjolras to get in the back, which he rolled his eyes and did, enjoying letting himself be childish for once. “Where to, Monsieur?” Grantaire asked with an exaggerated accent and Enjolras came up through the open window behind him.

 

“To the stars.” And then he grabbed Grantaire and pulled until the artist fell onto him in the back of the car, both of them in a heap of laughter.

 

When the sound died down and Enjolras’ mouth started to hurt from all the smiling, they both sat in a comfortable silence, Grantaire tangling their fingers together and Enjolras watching with unrestrained affection. “I love you.” Grantaire admitted softly, quietly, and Enjolras felt his face contort into one of pure glee, despite the pain in his cheeks at the action.

 

“I love you too.” Then he pushed a stray lock of Grantaire’s curly hair form his face and leaned in cautiously, delighted when Grantaire met him half way and their lips met in a soft kiss. Grantaire’s hand wandered to Enjolras’ hip and Enjolras knew if that was all he could do for the rest of his life, he would live a very fulfilled life indeed, but as it was, he had other plans. A soft pop sounded as their mouths parted and Enjolras tentatively brought Grantaire’s hand down to his chest, and beneath his shirt, where Grantaire brushed a thumb over Enjolras’ sensitive nipple and the blonde hissed in a breath. “I’ve never done this before so I don’t know how to- Please… Touch me, Grantaire.” And his artist was all too happy to oblige…


	8. Chapter 8

 

“Enjolras?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Have you done this before?” Enjolras shook his head, embarrassed, and Grantaire had such a caring and gentle touch and expression that he immediately felt the need to follow up with words.

 

“I trust you. _Only_ you.” And Enjolras was certain he could live the rest of his life just from the smile he received for that. He dug his hand into his jacket and gave Grantaire the half used bottle of oil before taking his jacket off completely. “But I think I know how it works. My father once shouted at one of our butlers before firing him, screaming about how it was improper for one to, as he put it, ‘take it up the arse’ under his household. I asked one of the maids what it meant and she told me. Obviously I couldn’t have anyone to help me, but I was curious so I…” He made a crude hand gesture that Grantaire laughed at. “But that’s all.”

 

“It might hurt a little the first time, okay?” Enjolras nodded. “But I’ll try my best to make sure it doesn’t, and it’s going to feel really weird before it feels any kind of good, and-”

 

“Grantaire?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Shut up and make love to me.” The artist didn’t need to be told twice.

 

For the next hour, Grantaire completely took Enjolras apart until he was a desperate, whining mess, gasping the artist’s name in-between moans that echoed through the cargo hold. Had anyone entered and seen the car slowly rocking back and forth there would have been no doubt as to what the two men were doing.

 

After, as they were gathering their breath, Grantaire laid on top of Enjolras on the leather seat, and Enjolras had never been so intimately comfortable with another person, and never so terrifyingly in love. In a vain attempt to try and slow his heart beat, he looked away from the mess of black curls before him and felt the already dark blush on his face deepen when he saw the handprint on the glass of the back window of the car, and Grantaire, following his gaze, huffed a laugh before planting his face into the blonde’s damp collarbone, pressing a soft kiss there and grinning. “That’s going to make a mark on the window when it dries.”

 

With a chuckle, Enjolras ran a hand through Grantaire’s hair and pressed a small kiss there, _because he could._ “I imagine it’s only joining the stains we made on the interior.” He bit his lip to stifle another joyful smile at the feeling of Grantaire’s stubble against his bare skin. “Grantaire?”

 

“Hm?” Grantaire responded, resting his chin on Enjolras’ chest so he was looking up at the other man and Enjolras carefully avoided his gaze with his next admittance.

 

“I’m not going back.”

 

“What?”

 

“I want to stay with you. When we get to New York, I don’t want to leave you.”

 

“Enjolras…” Grantaire made Enjolras look at him with a hand on his cheek. “I would be honoured for your companionship.”

 

“I’ll give you my everything, I promise.”

 

“It’s going to be difficult, you know? The world is different outside of your bubble.”

 

“I am aware of that, thank you.”

 

“I’m just saying,” Grantaire kissed Enjolras’ cheek, “my love won’t be able to get us jobs and somewhere to live.”

 

“As long as I have you, I don’t care.” Grantaire scrunched up his face as Enjolras pulled him up and pressed small kisses all over his face. “I love you.” He punctuated his sentence with a final kiss to Grantaire’s nose and then kissed him on the mouth lovingly.

 

“Alright.” Grantaire said as he gasped for breath after the kiss. “I love you too. You and I, we’ll take on the world, prejudices be damned.” He laced his fingers with Enjolras’ and dressed a kiss to each knuckle. “We really ought to be going before they do checks. There’s no way they’re missing that giant smudge of a hand print you made.”

 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow but agreed, and they both reluctantly got up and dressed and headed out, hand in hand, to the outer deck. Enjolras was hobbling a little, which Grantaire was kind enough not to mention, and let him lean his weight on him as they walked.

 

The icy cold air was like a slap to the face to both of them, having been consumed in their own heat for a while, and Enjolras laughed at the pained face Grantaire made.

 

“Oh, funny is it?” Enjolras shook his head though didn’t stop laughing, which quickly turned into giggles as Grantaire dug his hands into the blonde’s sides and then they were both laughing together, until Enjolras kissed him again, outside, _where anyone could see them._

 

Grantaire then picked him up and spun him around, causing a startled laugh to escape from the man and breaking their kiss. “This is crazy!” Grantaire exclaimed. “I get to spend the rest of my life with a god!” Enjolras wanted to roll his eyes but decided only to kiss Grantaire again, as he let him down, though the two were jolted apart when a sudden movement rocked the entire deck beneath them. They looked at each other then at a giant outline coming up the side of the ship and both jumped when ice suddenly splayed out at their feet. “I think we should go somewhere a bit safer, don’t you?”

 

“Definitely.” Grantaire took Enjolras’ hand and led them up a set of stairs, where a group of officers rushed past them with Mr. Andrews who was trying to whisper when exclaiming that the first hold was already underwater and spilling over.

 

“This is bad.”

 

“We should tell Cosette and your friends.”

 

“Cosette?”

 

“My maid. She’s remarkably intelligent and caring and if the world would just give her a chance-“

 

“Going off track. We’ll get Cosette first, then go to lower decks, alright?”

 

“Alright.” Then they were rushing to Enjolras’ quarters and were faced with a furious looking Azelma, Tholomyes, Madame Enjolras, and a few guards. “Something serious has happened.” Enjolras said.

 

“Indeed it has.” Azelma responded calmly, and her gaze flickered to Tholomyes before a small, almost unnoticeable nod passed between them. “It seems two precious things of mine have gone missing tonight. Search the rat.”

 

Grantaire was seized by two officers, and rolled his eyes. “We really ought to stop meeting like this Azelma.”

 

Her response was cut off by an officer asking, “is this the one, Madame?” while pulling the Heart of the Ocean from Grantaire’s pocket. _But that was impossible._

“He can’t have- I’ve been with him the whole time…”

 

“Perhaps he took it while you were putting your clothes back on, Dear.” She said low enough for Enjolras to hear, and then spoke to the officers. “Take him away.”

 

“Enjolras?” Grantaire questioned, a desperate tint to his tone. “Enjolras don’t believe them! You know I wouldn’t do that!”

 

He looked into Grantaire’s deep blue eyes and a feeling of hurt started to blossom in his chest, because he was looking at Enjolras no differently to when he’d loved him. He looked vulnerable and honest and maybe it had all been a lie to get the jewelry but… He trusted Grantaire, and… He’d been an idiot. He felt his tears well up in his eyes as Grantaire shouted for his trust, for his belief, even now, but he turned away and let himself be left in the room while the man he loved was dragged away. Then, everyone else filed out of the room slowly, until only Enjolras and Azelma remained.

 

The silence was overbearing, but the shame even more so. His body still ached and it reminded him of how much of himself he’d given to Grantaire without even thinking. When he’d read that love was irrational, he had not believed it, having not experienced it, but now he knew, and he just wanted to make this feeling go away.

 

“You’re a whore. And to think I wasted money on this for you, the most ungrateful bastard on the entire ship.” Azelma stated, venom in her voice as she threw the necklace at Enjolras. When Enjolras just swallowed and didn’t otherwise respond, looking at the necklace in his hands, she walked to him and slapped him as hard as she was able, immediately leaving a red imprint on his face that stung, before she grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “How dare you-“

 

A crewmember walked in then and urged them to leave for the top deck, pushing life jackets into their hands, much to the annoyance of Azelma and utter relief of Enjolras, who was hiding his cheek behind his hand and shoving the necklace in his trousers pocket with the other.

 

By the time they made it to the staircase, the angry red mark had faded somewhat and he found himself simply in confusion as people were calmly standing around him wearing life jackets. Then he saw Thomas Andrews walking past him, a look of complete horror written over his face. “Mr. Andrews? I saw the iceberg hit and you don’t… What’s going on?”

 

With no change in expression the man simply look at Enjolras with dead eyes and admitted, “the ship will sink. In about an hour or so, this will all be under the Atlantic. Get yourself to a lifeboat, Enjolras. You remember what I told you about the lifeboats?” At the nod of the blonde, Andrews continued walking further into the ship, rather than further out and away from danger. Enjolras’ stomach sank as the thought of what was going to happen to Grantaire ran through his head. He was probably in some holding cell somewhere that was filling with water already, shoved into the lower decks. He felt his insides turn and moved through the crowds, finding Cosette as he went and noticing that she was linking arms with Marius Pontmercy, so quickly made a stop on his way to discover Grantaire. “Cosette!” He lowered his voice once he had her attention and took her hand. “You and Marius need to go outside right now and get onto a damn boat. Will you do this for me, do you promise?”

 

“I… Yes, Enjolras.” She managed, though the newfound fear in her voice was obvious.

 

He nodded and carried on as fast as he could, as people started filing outside, and the sound of violins filled the air. He was about to run into some hallway when he realised he had no idea where to go, and was pulled from his thoughts by a rough hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. He turned to find his fiancé glaring at him, and his mother with a worried expression. “We need to get on a boat.” Azelma said.

 

“Will they be arranged by class? I do hope they’re not too crowded.” Madame Enjolras added, a sound of distain in her voice.

 

“Oh mother, shut up! Don’t you realize what’s happening? The ship is sinking and there aren’t enough boats! Not by half. Half the people on this ship are going to die.”

 

“Not the better half.” Azelma muttered, and Enjolras’ mother nodded, and quickly got into a boat at the first offer. “It’s a pity I didn’t keep that drawing. It’ll be worth a lot more by morning.”

 

“You unimaginable bitch.” Azelma shrugged and directed Enjolras to Molly Brown, who was beckoning him into a boat. He looked from her to his mother to his fiancé and for a minute his mind went blank, until he took his engagement ring from his finger and threw into the ocean, riling up Azelma. “Goodbye.” And then he was gone, running to the only man he knew could help.

 

He ran through the halls shouting until he found Mr. Andrews, and when he did, the man looked distraught at seeing him unsafe. “Where would the master at arms keep a man under arrest?”

 

The following instructions led him to a ridiculously long corridor, half flooded, and his heart almost stopped. “Grantaire?” He shouted, loud as he could and unashamedly desperate.

 

“Enjolras? I’m in here!” There was banging against a door, and Enjolras wasted no time in kicking down the door with all of his strength and almost knocking Grantaire out, who’d had the good sense to move back when Enjolras had went silent. The water was already up to their waists as they quickly embraced. “How did you find out I didn’t do it?”

 

“I didn’t. I found out I already knew.” He then gave Grantaire a kiss on the cheek and took his hand as the water made its way to their chests and running became very difficult. “Grantaire, this is the way out!” Enjolras shouted as they looked down a completely full corridor.

 

“Then we’ll need to find another way, come on!” And then he turned, swimming as fast as he could with Enjolras following behind until they eventually found a staircase and burst out into a clear hallway, and ran up there towards the sound of shouting and met up with a crowd of people being held in by a locked gate with crewmen guarding.

 

A familiar face made its way through the crowd and Courfeyrac greeted them with sheer panic, followed by the rest of their friends. “The ship is sinking and they won’t let us out!”

 

“Lets go this way then, come on!” Grantaire shouted above the rioting and led Enjolras and their friends away from the hold up and to another closed gaze, which at a lack of patience, they rammed down with a nearby bench and poured through, fear causing the adrenalin in them to course through their veins twice as fast as they ran to top deck and joined more bulging crowds.

 

They followed each other until there was a hold up created by a crewmember keeping people back with a gun and Grantaire saw Courfeyrac move to the front and spread his arms out to protect his friends, when the panic caused someone to jolt and push him forward as a shot rang out, and Grantaire and Enjolras watched in horror as Courfeyrac’s lifeless body hit the deck, coating his lifejacket with red as Jehan dropped to his knees, grasping the jacket and sobbing, refusing to move no matter how much Combeferre tried to pull him up. Enjolras felt a sense of shocked disgust and sorrow that was completely unfamiliar fill him completely. His limbs went stiff and he felt cold as his face was marred with more silent tears that he couldn't stop.His hand tightened around Grantaire's and the other man squeezed his hand back gently, trying to completely block out what was going on and figure something out to help them.

 

“He was an innocent man, you bastard!” Combeferre shouted, before the crewmember pointed the gun to himself and another shot rang out, leaving the crewman laid by Courfeyrac’s side.

 

After the outburst, Combeferre kneeled to Courfeyrac’s side and took off the life jacket with shaking hands, putting it on a very reluctant and thrashing Jehan. He then pulled Jehan to his chest and let the man sob into his shirt while Grantaire and Enjolras stepped forwards.

 

“Get on the boat!” Enjolras shouted to the group of the few left from those who hadn’t ran for fear of being shot. Immediately, people filed into the lifeboat, including their friends, and even Jehan being pulled in by Combeferre, and when it was full Enjolras turned to Grantaire. “We need at least two to lower it.” Grantaire nodded, _as long as we’re together_ , and took one of the ropes, leaving Enjolras to take the other.

 

“You can’t do that!” Jehan shouted. “What are you both going to do?”

 

“There’s an arrangement, Jehan.” Enjolras lied, speaking in a more calm tone than he though himself capable in the moment, “Grantaire and I are getting on a boat on the other side. I paid them off. Now please sit down!” Enjolras shouted back with enough conviction to make Jehan believe him, but not enough to not receive a sad and grateful nod from Combeferre, who helped Jehan back down and held him close to try and stop him shivering.

 

They slowly but surely lowered the boat into the water and waved off their friends with smiles, both being eternally grateful that they were able to be of some help to the people that deserved it. “You’re a good liar.” Grantaire said softly, lacing his fingers with Enjolras’ on the wooden edge they were leaning on once the crewmen were rowing away to safety. They both looked over the water for a moment, then Grantaire looked up at the flares lighting up the sky with red and orange to contrast with the stars. It was a very beautiful, clear night, despite everything.

 

“I learned from the best.” Enjolras said with a teasing smile, rubbing his thumb over Grantaire’s hand softly.

 

“I never lied to you.”

 

“I know. I was kidding.”

 

“I didn’t think you were capable.” Grantaire said, looking at Enjolras with a mirrored grin.

 

“I’m going to ignore that in favour of dying in peace with a happy mind, beside the one I love. We did a good thing here tonight. A great thing.” Enjolras finished his sentence with a genuinely happy smile and a small kiss to Grantaire’s hand.

 

By now, their friends must have realised that neither of them were running to the other side of the ship, because though it was difficult to see in the dark, Enjolras and Grantaire could make out the figure of Feuilly pulling back Bahorel, who was attempting to dive in so he could go and get them, much in the same way Combeferre was holding a fidgeting Jehan and keeping him in place. From where they were they couldn’t hear over the shouts of other passengers, but Joly and Bossuet were shouting something to them that were most likely pleas to get them in a boat, even though both knew it was an impossibility by this point. Enjolras turned back and looked at Courfeyrac, then walked over to him and kneeled beside him, using his now free hand to close his eyes and kissed his forehead. He then pushed a few stray curls from his face and used his sleeve to wipe spatters of blood from his cheek and laid him back down to a more comfortable looking position, so that he almost looked peaceful. Looking down at Courfeyrac, he felt his eyes start to sting, and then felt tentative hand come around his waist and leave dentate the embrace. 

 

“He liked you, you know? Thought you were far too good for me." Grantaire let out a weak sound of amusement, trying to make Enjolras feel better. "Come on." He turned Enjolras around and grabbed his forearm. "We can’t stay here.” Grantaire said, forcing Enjolras away with a tight grip. Enjolras wanted to cry, could already feel the ache in his throat that came from holding his emotions, but tried to be strong for Grantaire. Even if he were to die tonight, to die by Grantaire's side would be an honour. They were running once more towards the inside of the ship, Grantaire trying to get them to higher ground to see if they could spot any other boats left, though they knew it was futile.

 

After a few minutes they eventually made their way to the very top deck, but all they could see was the tail end of the ship they were on as the lights flickered on and off and all that was left was the screams of the people running around. From where they were, they could see their friends frantically waving at the ship from their boat, but with no idea as to where either of them could be. Their mouths were moving but they were so far away that their voices couldn’t quite reach the ship.

 

Grantaire tore away his gaze first, determined, and dragged Enjolras to the very back of the boat through crowds of terrified people as it tipped, climbing over the railing and helping Enjolras to do the same until they were lying almost vertically as the ship tilted up.

 

Enjolras gripped Grantaire’s hand like a vice and tried to steady his breathing, thinking about the people he had seen, and how Grantaire must have felt and how unfair it was that his mother got on a boat. She was sexist, homophobic, racist and everything wrong with the world got on a boat because she was first class, and Combeferre, an aspiring doctor, out to help the people, to save lives and heal people, was left to his own devices because he wasn’t a snob. Courfeyrac, shot for protecting those he loved instead of trying to get himself on a boat first. Jehan, left with the love of his life ripped from his grasp because they were scared and help was refused to their class. He was interrupted in his thoughts by the shouting of Grantaire.

 

“Hold on, and take a deep breath to hold when I say. Kick for the surface and keep kicking, and for the love of god do not let go of my hand. Ready?” They got closer to the water and Enjolras nodded furiously, heart pounding and fear over taking him as he felt splashes of water cover his face. “Okay… Now!”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter!!! I hope you all enjoyed it and if you made it this far thank you so much for reading, it has been a pleasure to write :D

Stinging, ice-cold water enveloped him immediately and his chest was being crushed under the pressure. For a moment, he completely lost control of his body and Grantaire’s hand slipped away, making him flail until he remembered to kick and resurfaces a few seconds later, shouting frantically for Grantaire, but unable to hear anything over the screams of the passengers around him, and numb to anything that was hitting him as people bustled around. He shouted a few more times, then thought the worst and began outright screaming for Grantaire, until he felt s pair of shaking hands come into contact with his and looked into the familiar blue eyes he’d fallen in love with, and managed only a relieved breath before Grantaire was pulling him towards a floating door and pushing him on it, but when he tried to get on with him, the weight caused it to dip under the water, which would render it useless, so he simply set Enjolras upon it and swam to the front to hold his hands, kissing them softly with shaking lips.

 

“It’s going to be alright.” He said, though Enjolras hardly heard it over the screaming and the pounding in his head. “They’re going to turn the boats in a little while, you’ll see.”

 

“But what if-“

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

“I trust you more than anything.”

 

“Then you must believe that the boats will come.” Grantaire said firmly, though his stern tone was rendered ineffective by the worrying chattering of his teeth. Without thinking of anything else to do, Enjolras leaned forward and kissed him, Grantaire almost biting his tongue but grateful for the distraction, for when Enjolras kissed him, he could focus on hardly anything else.

 

When Enjolras pulled back, Grantaire was smiling and Enjolras rubbed circles into his hands with the pads of his thumbs while Grantaire kept kicking beneath the water to try and keep his temperature up. “Talk to me.” Enjolras demanded. “If we’re listening to each other we don’t have to listen to what’s happening, right?”

 

“Right.” Grantaire nodded, letting out a breath that instantly crystalized into the air. “I’m proud of you, Enjolras. Leaving your family for your freedom was brave. More brave than I’ve ever been.”

 

“Don’t you lie now. I’ve never known a man have nerve like yours. You’re fascinating and brilliant and kind and if you hadn’t shown me your honest bravery I would have been stuck forever. I owe more thanks to you than I am capable of giving.”

 

“You owe me nothing.”

 

“I owe you my life. And I give it to you freely.”

 

“You just wait, Enjolras.” Grantaire said with a grin, making Enjolras smile in return, trying to block out and ignore everything happening around them, as well as the water soaked into his clothes that was beginning to fuse to his skin as it froze, a more painful experience than he can remember having. “When we get out of here, we’re going to run, just you and I and our friends. We’ll get a nice inn, and we’ll be like a real married couple, offering warmth and comfort to weary travellers with whom we once shared a fate.”

 

“I’d love that almost as much as I love you.”

 

“Don’t be getting all soft on me now.” Grantaire laughed, and he and Enjolras carried on talking as long as they were able before Grantaire started to feel his throat close up, and often nodded as eagerly as he could manage to Enjolras’ encouraging anecdotes to spare himself the pain of trying to choke out words.

 

They waited for half an hour, while the sound died out and Enjolras couldn’t help but notice the growing silence around them. “It’s getting quiet.”

 

Grantaire nodded again, and tried to lift his head to look into Enjolras’ eyes to offer a smile, but found his pale lips were reluctant to move from their relaxed place, so just blinked slowly, calmly, so as to placate the other man. “It’ll be just a few minutes, Enjolras. They’re just sorting everything out, and then t-they’ll come back to get us and we’ll be fine. You and I, together. I wont leave you, okay?”

 

There was a pause. “I love you, Grantaire.”

 

“Don’t you dare start that. You’re not saying goodbye to me, not yet” His lips were blue with cold and that flushed face Enjolras had gotten so used to seeing was stark white, matching the ice that was sprinkled across his dark curls. “You’re going to get out of here, and when you do die, you’re going to be an old, grumpy man that yells at all the youngsters.” He let out a stuttering laugh and Enjolras tilted his head, smiling sadly. “Winning that ticket, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. It brought me to you. Even now, I wouldn’t take it back. I’m thankful to you, Enjolras. I love you too, and you have to promise me that you’ll survive.” And then his voice finally broke and tears finally started streaming down Grantaire’s cheeks, unstoppable, no matter how unbearably excruciating they were as they stuck to his skin and made him heave in freezing lumps of air so he didn’t choke. “No matter what happens, you have to promise me you’ll never give up. No matter how hopeless, promise me.”

 

“I promise. I’ll never give up.” Enjolras said, and wanted to kiss away Grantaire’s pain, but couldn’t move, and instead focused on breathing and holding Grantaire’s hand, the best comfort he could offer without the energy to even speak.

 

 

\--------------------------------------

 

 

Enjolras was completely numb to the world around him, only grounded ever so slightly by the hand in his, from which no heat was being radiated, but the same could be said for his hand. At Grantaire’s insistence, he had rolled onto his back to look up at the stars with him while they waited for time to pass so that Enjolras wouldn’t have to bear witness to the atrocities around them.

 

They stayed in silence for a little while, only a few minutes, as any remaining noise faded into complete silence, which made it easier to hear when a male voice started calling out for anybody that was alive. As soon as the question was asked, Enjolras lifted his head from the icy door, wincing as he felt some of his hair break away with it, and looked to Grantaire, who had closed his eyes. He mustered up the energy he had to shake Grantaire’s hand. “Wake up, Grantaire. Come on.” His voice was quiet, hurting from the cold, which had frozen his throat almost shut making every breath and word a very focused effort., but he wouldn’t let Grantaire miss this. “There’s a boat, Grantaire.” He shook his hand a little more when Grantaire didn’t respond at all and even though he already knew in the back of his mind what had happened, he didn’t want to believe it, and kept trying to wake the artist up, so they could shout, _together,_ and the boat could come and help them.

 

“Grantaire.” Enjolras was desperate as he felt the very last thing he had held hope for slip away, and looked at the peaceful face of his artist before him, before he pressed their foreheads together and hitched a breath before whispering. “Come on, Grantaire. This isn’t funny any more. You’re going to miss the stars.” He loved the stars, and the light, because it was beautiful like him, Enjolras reasoned, and Grantaire wouldn’t want to miss something so beautiful. He realised then, that Grantaire had directed him away so that when he thought of the artist in the future he would not see the dim eyes of a dying man, but the bright spark of his adored Grantaire. His felt his heart break in two as his throat grew tighter and extremely painful with grief.

 

The boat came closer and Enjolras knew he couldn’t keep this up if he was going to keep his promise to Grantaire. He could not cry because he didn’t have the strength and his eyes were already heavy with ice and cold, and he didn’t know what to do. The boat started to turn away and he laid his head down, prepared to take the same fate as those around him, then remembered that if he were to do that, who would tell their story and fight for them in the future? Who would prevent this happening again? _What would Grantaire’s death have meant?_

 

He reluctantly pushed himself up as much as he could and looked over to where a man was still in his life jacket with a whistle frozen to his unmoving lips and sucked in a breath, looking back to Grantaire. He used his free hand to pry Grantaire’s frozen digits from his own and rubbed a few last soothing circles into the hard skin of Grantaire’s hands, as if it would offer him some comfort had he known, and spoke with honesty through hitched breaths and frozen tears, “I’ll never give up. I promise. I love you.” Then he pressed a small kiss to Grantaire’s lips and let go of his hands, watching as Grantaire sank before his eyes into the dark ocean, with no way of saying goodbye, but couldn’t think about it for too long and pushed himself into the water to grab the whistle and get the attention of those manning the rescue boat.

 

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

 

“There were twenty boats floating near by, and only one came back.” Enjolras said, expression blank, but his eyes filled with unshed tears. “One.” He paused to hold his temper, and then carried on. “Six were saved from the water, myself included. Six. Of fifteen hundred. All that was left to do then was to wait. For life. For death. For an absolution, that would never come.” He blinked and quickly wiped away the evidence of his mourning. “My friends, I later found out, were in that one boat, and held my shivering body while they nursed me back to health. I was not conscious for it, of course. A wonderful young woman, Musichetta, told me about it afterwards. She spent more time with the group than I had at this point, and regaled me with many stories. They were truly incredible people. I got to know this when I woke in a small inn that she happened to own, and was greeted by similarly distraught friends. It took a while to heal, I will not lie. I would not have been able to speak the letter R without thinking of his suffering and crying myself to sleep at night, but that is not what he would have wanted. Instead, I took the time, got help from my friends, and managed to start a little group that helped the less fortunate, just like he wanted. I never loved again, though. I never could, not after him.” Enjolras looked up at the crying faces around the room and smiled at the memory of how happy Musichetta had been when telling her stories.

 

“What happened to Azelma?”

 

“She married, of course, invested her millions, but I hear her business didn’t cope well through the crash of ’29, and she put a pistol in her mouth than year. Or so I read. I never wanted to wish her harm, you understand, only that she would see the error of her ways. Anyone can be saved.”

 

“We never found anything on Grantaire. There’s no record of him at all.”

 

“No there wouldn’t be, would there? I’ve not spoken of him until now, either. Not to anybody that could tell our story to the world. Passers by hold his character in their hearts as I do, but I did want to him to be remembered in sorrow if he was remembered at all, but as the vibrant life he was. The last people who ever knew the real story were your mother and father.” He said to his godson, who looked proud to have inherited his name from such a brilliant man. “I found them, you see, Cosette and Marius. They joined the group until they had you, Grantaire, and then I became a godfather. I had a family, and a good, loving one at that. There was not a day went by that I didn’t think about him, and how much he changed the way I thought about things, and consequently how many lives he doesn’t know he’s saved. But now you know that there was a man named Grantaire, and he saved me in every way a person can be saved.” He looked down into his lap and frowned. “I don’t even have a picture of him. He exist now only in my memory.”

 

While the room tried to hide their emotional responses, Grantaire came forward and helped Enjolras up. “I think I’ll help Uncle Enjolras get some rest, now. It seems for the best.”

 

They walked back to Enjolras’ room on the boat in silence and when they got there, Enjolras reached into his pocket and pulled out a white cloth and handed to his godson with steady hands, the least shaky they’d been in years. “Open this when you get back to your room and keep it safe, don’t give it to anyone. There were many times I had it rough, and was ready to go, but every time, you were there, crawling up to me with your little hands and your little face, and needing me to look after you, and it has been a privilege. I said I had never known romantic love since my Grantaire, but you were my reason for living when things got hard, because you needed me, and I needed you. He’d not be happy about it if I kept you any longer. I want you to know that your mother and father loved you more than you could possibly know, and as my godson, I loved you too.”

 

“Thank you.” His godson said with tears in his eyes.

 

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you later, Grantaire.” And then his godson left, leaving Enjolras to rest and revel in fond memories for the last time.

 

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

 

When Enjolras woke up, he could smell a fresh ocean breeze, but without the usual fuzzy overtone of stale, indoor air. An old man like him was liable to being cooped up inside, but this was different. He could feel cool air against his skin, and there was brightness behind his eyes, which revealed a bright sunrise over the side of a familiar deck when he opened them. He took a deep breath and smelled... _Fresh paint…_

He looked down at his hands and saw that the wrinkles and marks from before were replaced with smooth, tanned skin, and smiled to himself, bending his fingers in a way he’d almost forgotten how to. He then spun around and caught sight of himself in a window, his jaw dropping at the sight of his younger self, staring back at him in awe. He pinched his arm slightly, and found that nothing shifted. Moving his arm up, his finger touched the cold surface of the glass and he smiled, amazed.

 

Suddenly, he felt a massive pang of longing wrench his heart and shift him from where he was standing, and the next thing he knew, he was running. Down hallways and through doors he raced, ignoring the familiar flashes of wooden fixtures and gold statues and paintings, until he reached a very well detailed set of doors that opened for him, revealing a room packed full of people that turned and smiled kindly at him as soon as he was noticed.

 

He shyly stepped forward, still felling a little nervous, aware that this couldn’t be a dream, and then he saw a face he hadn’t seen in a long time, Courfeyrac, standing at his side and hooking his arm into Enjolras’, and Enjolras realised where he was, and felt his heart swell as Courfeyrac nodded encouragingly and gave him a kiss on the cheek as he urged him forward with his tugging arm. As people continued parting for him, Enjolras recognized the faces of his friends as they passed, and even received a grateful nod from Marius and Cosette at the last breaking line of the crowd, before Courfeyrac slipped away into the hold of a finally happy looking Jehan, and Marius and Cosette parted to reveal charcoal smudged skin and dark, black curls and blue eyes and-

 

He didn’t know how, but his body suddenly lunged forward and wrapped around the one person that had taken over his entire life with a few days of love and he soon found himself locked in a passionate kiss with Grantaire as the rest of the room cheered. This was it. He would never let go of Grantaire again, not ever. When he cupped Grantaire’s cheek as they parted, the artist’s skin was warm and soft, even with his stubble and tears welled up in his eyes from pure joy, spilling over before he could help himself.

 

“I’ve missed you so much.” Enjolras admitted and Grantaire himself felt the water running down his cheeks.

 

“I would have waited for you forever.”

 

“I’ll never let you go.”

 

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

 

“What now?” Enjolras asked, still clinging firmly to Grantaire.

 

“Now, the world is ours. We can do whatever you wish, My Love, with whomever you wish.”

 

“Ill do anything as long as I’m with you. Please don’t ever leave me again.

 

“I promise I will never leave you.” Grantaire said seriously, kissing Enjolras quickly to make his point. “I never did.”

 

Enjolras smiled. “I love you. More than words can say”

 

“We’ve got a life time together, I’m sure you’ll find the right ones. But for now, I love you too.” And they smiled at each other while Grantaire spun Enjolras around and he reveled in his youth and beauty and love while Grantaire was right there with him. Always.

**Author's Note:**

> For more enjoltaire follow my tumblr: enjolrushed


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